Rose of Aberdeen
by WhiteRoseRed
Summary: Kurt's a rich aristocrat, son of the well known Burt Hummel. Blaine's just a poor boy, raised in a small village. Mid 1800 Britain forbids their found love for each other, but they fall anyway. Super AU multi-chapter story. First historical fiction.
1. Chapter One

**Hello and Happy New Year! I haven't published anything for quite a while but I've been working on this for a while. I've never written anything remotely historical before, and therefore I would appreciate any criticism. I don't think I have anything else to say, just that is dedicated to KlainebowKlisses, and that you should definitely check out her stories! WhiteRoseRed xx**

Old Aberdeen was a place of limited fulfilment. People would come and people would go, each leaving but a tiny mark in the village's history. Blaine Anderson was thought to be of the same significance as the many people before him, just another farm boy who would grow up to marry just another poor girl; a set destiny, it seemed.

It was in the middle of summer 1850 when Freya Anderson felt those pains that her mother had told her about, the ones that foretold the imminent coming of her child. Blaine was born in the same cottage that his father had been born in, and his mother wept the same tears of joy that she had seen the other women of the village cry when she was a little girl.

The cottage wasn't much. It consisted of only four rooms: two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a room in which the Andersons ate and shared stories. It was a simplistic life, one that Freya Anderson was almost certain that her sons would not break out of.

Blaine's father was a strict man. He had clear views on what was right in the world, and how his son should live his life. Blaine had been told from a very young age that he would grow up to be a fine farmer, just like his father. He would have his own family, and his children too would grow up to follow in the traditions of the village.

Charlie Anderson was two years Blaine's senior. He was tall, and the tattered clothes he wore clung tightly to the musculature of his arms once he was old enough to join his father in the fields. Blaine was always shorter than the other boys, much shorter than his older brother, and he received many a snide comment because of this.

Charlie was eager to join his father in his daily duties. He was intent on becoming the pure image of a family man, and to follow in his father's footsteps. Blaine, however, didn't share this wish. He never badgered his father, asking when he would be able to work the newly developed machines, nor did he ever express any desire to get his hands dirty. Blaine wasn't interested in that. He wanted to leave Old Aberdeen and travel. He wanted to make something bigger of himself. He didn't want to be trapped in the same regime that generations of Andersons had been stuck in.

Freya Anderson saw her son's ambition from an early age. He wouldn't play on the streets with the other village children. When he attended church services on a Sunday, he wouldn't mess around or throw about stones like the other little boys. He would sing with the congregation and even pestered the Vicar into letting him have a go on the organ a few times.

Freya taught Blaine things that she could never teach Charlie. Blaine would listen intently to whatever it was she had to say, and would spend most of his day working with his mother inside the house. Freya sometimes went on outings with the other women of the village. It was a welcome treat from the menial tasks they had to carry out every day. The young boys would run ahead and splash in the streams, dirtying their trousers and seeing who could skip their rock the furthest. The girls would carry baskets and join their mothers in picking the seasonal berries and collecting the herbs that grew on the edge of the stream.

Blaine would climb the highest tree he could find, often scraping his knees in the process, and look out across his village, spotting the vast compounds of the university and watching the clouds and the shades they created cast over the city of Aberdeen. Blaine thought the countryside was beautiful, of course he did, but he'd felt from a young age that he was missing out on something much greater and much more meaningful. Maybe it wasn't even the bustling cities that he sought; perhaps just a new purpose.

Blaine often went with his mother to the rose beds, helping her trim the bushes while she chatted with her friends, and lying out in the expands of green grass. His father often scolded him for his disinterest in his work and told him many times that, "Boys like you must follow in the legacy, Blaine. Trimming roses will not teach you how to use the new plough, will it?"

Blaine would bow his head and nod respectfully at his father, as any boy should, but he still held no wish to take part in the labour that was an essential part of village life. His father would often inform him of how ungrateful he was, that boys who had no aspiration to work on the farm should be placed straight in a workhouse where they belonged.

When Blaine was ten years old, his father had finally forced him into the fields, and he learned how to do the smaller tasks, tying up the hay and making sure that the machines were well oiled. He grew closer with the one friend he had ever really had, a boy one year older than him called Samuel. They would carry out their tasks together, in the eyes of their seniors, and Blaine's father began to grow fonder of his son, proud of his growing skills.

Another four years went by and Blaine found himself finally working with his brother, Sam along side them. They would wake up early in the morning, around five or so, and would work for ten hours in the fields, spending their evenings either at home or in the local pub. Blaine was falling into the stereotypical male type, despite his wishes for more.

Blaine once enquired to his father about perhaps getting an education, but his father had just snorted and informed him that it was "a colossal waste of time." Blaine didn't dare argue.

It was in the middle of winter when there was not much work to do and the village's supplies were running out, when Blaine had first been truly and utterly afraid of his father.

He had grown much closer with Sam, and they were pretty much inseparable. Blaine began to feel things that he knew that he shouldn't be feeling. Not towards a boy, anyway. He kept these feeling under control, however. That was until a dark December night, when he and Sam had collapsed inside the farmhouse, tired from their day of work and shivering from the cold.

Blaine had carried some hay over to Sam and threw it over him, prompting cries of laughter from the other boy. Blaine collapsed down next to him and grabbed some of the hay, placing it over himself to block out the cold. Blaine moved closer to Sam so that they were side-by-side, and continued to shake. A rush of unwanted adrenaline travelled through him when Sam wrapped his arm around Blaine's shoulder. His young mind refused to filter all dangerous longings, which is how he ended up on top of Sam, his lips pressed to the other boy's. Sam didn't push him away, but clung onto him instead. Both knew of how dangerous it was, and how wrong it was supposed to be, and how stupid it was to do such a thing in public, but neither cared.

His father's cold voice had been the thing to break them apart, and the next thing he knew, he'd been pulled by his shirt off the ground and thrown across the floor. Sam had stood quickly and made to bolt out of the door before Blaine's father caught him by the collar and brought him close to his face, growling insults at him and telling him to stay away from his son or he'd report him like he should. When he was released, Sam had sprinted away, terrified and confused by his own emotions.

Mr Anderson was livid. The beating that Blaine received was like none he'd been put through before. He was almost sure that he couldn't feel his face by the end of it, and the fire of rage that shone in his father's eyes had petrified him to the point where he could barely breath.

Mr Anderson had made it incredibly clear that Blaine was not to stray towards such wicked ways again, and that his disgusting act had changed the way he thought about his son forever. He had pushed him once more before exiting the farmhouse, shutting the doors behind him and leaving Blaine in the dark. Blaine cried himself to sleep that night.

He knew when he woke up the next morning that he couldn't continue to live there. He knew for certain that his problem would never go away, and that what he felt towards Sam wasn't normal or even right, but he just had to get away. He didn't think anyone would understand, not his father, not his brother…maybe not even his own mother, the one person he had grown to fully trust.

His father had told his mother about his doings. He knew that within a second of shuffling tentatively into his house. His mother's eyes fell on him, and he was half expecting them to be full of hate and shame. But they weren't. They were sad, and they seemed to cut through his heart even more than his father's vicious words. That scared him. He didn't understand.

He did his duties that day. Sam had been separated from him and now worked with another group of villagers that lived a few streets away from Blaine. Blaine was quiet, ignoring his brother's ignorant attempts at conversation and inquiries as to why he was being so silent. His father did not speak one word to him that day, and Blaine was left confused and upset.

He knew what he had to do that evening. He took everything he owned and placed it in a sack that he had stolen from his father, unnoticed by his brother who was fast asleep on his bed. Blaine had only three shirts, and one was in the washing basket downstairs, so he placed the extra in the sack. He had only a little money, enough for a couple of pints and a loaf of bread or two. He placed this in his trouser pocket. He slept warily that night, the sack hidden under his bed, ready for him to leave his home briskly the following morning.

He woke up an hour earlier than usual and creeped out of his bedroom. He wasn't even fifteen yet, but he knew he had to leave. For one, he was an embarrassment to his father, and if anyone else in the village were to ever find out…he was sure that his family would get nothing but trouble.

Blaine didn't know where he wanted to go. His knowledge of the country was less than adequate, but he knew that if he travelled south he would come across England, and if he continued south still he would reach the city of London. It was a long shot, he was aware of that. He had no means of getting about, and he didn't have enough money for the new railway systems that were popping up over the country, which left only one option for him: he would have to walk.

Blaine swallowed thickly, opening the kitchen window silently and feeling the chill of the morning wind hit him. No birds were singing, most having migrated months ago, and the silence was oddly deafening to him. It made him think, made him consider. He knew it was dangerous, he knew that death often fell upon poor travellers that held too much ignorant hope, but he had to try. Blaine was never one for giving up, anyway.

He pulled back the iron lock on the front door, ignoring the waves of guilt that were starting to build up inside him, and made to open the slab of wood.

"I knew you would leave." His mother's voice was solemn, so quiet that he barely heard it.

Blaine turned immediately, facing the woman who was standing at the bottom of the stares in her nightdress. "Mother…"

"It's okay, Blaine. I understand." She walked towards him, her arms outstretching so that she could take her son's hands. Blaine dropped his sack immediately and took her hands in his, the soft skin against his labour-callused hands a comfort.

"I can't stay…I can't. Father, he won't…I'm a disgrace."

"You are not a disgrace, Blaine. Not to me." She whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"Please don't speak bad of me, mother. Please don't tell father that you were aware of my leaving. He will be angry if you do so." Blaine said calmly, closing his eyes briefly as he sniffed.

"I won't," She nodded steadily, letting tears fill her eyes freely. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know," Blaine admitted. "Anywhere. Away from here."

His mother nodded again, tilting her head slightly to the left as she looked over her son, the unruly curls on his head and the cuts across his face. She breathed in and spoke again, her words slicing gently through the silence. "I have something for you."

She released Blaine's hand from hers and left him standing by the door whilst she opened a cupboard door, reaching inside and pulling out a plate, enclosed by a thin glass dome. The striking familiar red of the rose hit Blaine's eyes, and his forehead creased in confusion. "A rose?"

"Take it. Take the rose, Blaine." she handed the flower to Blaine, clasping her hands around her son's when he took it. "I knew it. I knew you would leave. I picked this one last night, Blaine."

"Why?" Blaine whispered, tears beginning to blur his vision.

"It is a tradition, Blaine. It's a tradition that has been spread across our family, passed down from generation to generation. Not an Anderson tradition, oh no, this is of my side. The Anderson's are too cold to believe in such a thing as this." his mother replied, allowing her own tears fall steadily down her cheeks.

"I don't understand, mother." Blaine sniffed, fixating his eyes on the deep red rose.

"On her fifteenth birthday, a girl is given a single red rose. She must keep it with her, not always on her person, but she must make sure it is safe. The rose will dry and its colour will fade, but she must not throw it away. When she finds him, Blaine, when she finds her true love, her eternal partner, only then must the rose leave her. It must be given to him, her love, and he must take care of it, of her, of her heart. She does not need to look after it any more, nor does she have to worry about it. For she has him, her true love. The rose is a symbol, Blaine. I want you to follow this. You will find your true love, sweetheart, and when you do..." she swallowed. "Do you understand?"

Blaine nodded once, letting his thumb stroke delicately at the rose.

"This is most usually a tradition that the females of our family follow, but you, Blaine, hold a heart so great and so good...males can be so violent and so harsh. But not you."

"Mother..." Blaine started, bowing his head gently.

"I know you will find happiness. You are strong, stronger that I ever was and ever will be. Just know, Blaine. Know that, even when it feels like there is no love in this cold world, I will always hold you in my heart. Please know that."

His mother's hands left his and he sobbed, letting his tears fall and almost crushing the rose in his hand, grief filling his heart as his mother let her hand return to his cheek.

She spoke gentle words to him, her eyes filling with adoration as Blaine let her voice sooth him. He hugged her gently, and made a promise to come back one day, before stepping out into the cold, shutting the door behind him. He immediately fell to the floor, placing the rose gently into a piece of cloth and putting it in his sack. His hands found the frost that had formed over the grass in front of his home, or not his home, but what used to be his home but couldn't be anymore.

He stood up slowly, placing his palms against the wall and swinging his sack over his bruised shoulder. He pushed himself off of the wall and set off silently, heading towards a road that lead south down through Edinburgh, one that he had travelled down only once or twice but knew well enough that he was certain that he would not take a wrong turn.

The air was crisp and cold against his cheeks, and the tears stains shone in the moonlight. His hands were surprisingly warm, and despite the echoing words of his mother that were reverberating in his brain, sparks of thrill began to chorus inside him at the predicament of pure uncertainty he was entering into. He didn't know exactly where he was going, he didn't know who he would meet, and he was at risk of many dangers that prowled the streets at that time.

He knew, however, that wherever he was going, it would be better, and that was all he needed to be sure that what he was doing wasn't entirely reckless and hopeless, that leaving his family for what he saw as selfish reasons would give him the freedom that he had always desired. Through the unknown, at least he knew that.

**Thank you for taking the time to read. Comments, ideas, and criticisms are very much welcome! The next chapter should be up soon. WhiteRoseRed xx **


	2. Chapter Two

**Thank you for all who have read the first chapter, and thank you all who have story alerted and reviewed. :) Enjoy! WhiteRoseRed xx**

2

"Peter." The gruff voice startled the stableboy from his work, and he shot his head up to meet the eyes of his master who was standing at the entrance to the set of stables, wearing a fine black lounge coat and a pair of wide trousers. Peter instantly stood at attention, respectfully dropping his work.

"Master Hummel, do you require something?" Peter was young, only sixteen years old, but he had served in the Hummel estate since his twelfth birthday, when his father had suggested he find work.

"I do," Burt Hummel began, entering the stable area and inspecting his favourite stallion, a pure white horse that he had always been fond of. "We are in need of another stableboy."

A thousand anxious thoughts ran through Peter's head. "Another…another stableboy? Have I done something wrong, sir?"

Peter was confused. Master Hummel had always seemed to approve of him, and it was known throughout Hathersage about the Hummel's generosity and kindness when it came to the treatment of servants. Without this knowledge, Peter would never have spoken back in such a direct way.

"No, that is not the case. I don't mean for the new stableboy to replace you, but to assist you instead. We have acquired a new set of horses, a fine breed they are. You are young and perhaps you would benefit from some extra assistance." The man stroked down to the horse's muzzle, smiling gently.

"Of course, Sir." Peter replied, wiping his dirty hands on his trousers and staring down at the floor.

"I've arranged for a coach to take you to the city. I'm sure there is many an eager young man residing in Sheffield, and I feel it appropriate for you to approve of the boy who will accompany you in your duties. Bring him back here and Mr Gibbons will most likely approve of him and he may begin work tomorrow." Master Hummel gave the horse one last affectionate stroke and turned towards Peter, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Thank you, sir. Am I to leave now?"

"Yes, I trust you will find someone responsible." Burt did not even think against it; he placed a single hand briefly on Peter's shoulder and gave him a reassuring look before exiting and heading towards the main compounds of the estate.

Peter breathed heavily and retrieved his small bag, which he had hung around one of the broken planks of wood that had been snapped by previous particularly wild horses, and made his way out of the stable door, breathing in the chilly February air, running a hand through his ginger hair.

Blaine was tired. Blaine was more than tired, in fact; he was exhausted. All energy that had resided in his young body had been driven from him after almost two months of mindless walking. He'd managed to get around, making money by working on small farms for a couple of days at a time on his way from city to city, stopping to sing on a couple corners in bustling town centres when he became particularly desperate.

Blaine had seen more in that past two months than he had in the previous fourteen years of his life, and as much as all the new sights astounded and fascinated him, he still hadn't found whatever it was that he was looking for.

And he was about ready to just give up and return home to face the angry words of his father.

Blaine arrived in Sheffield early in the morning, gazing wearily at the huge industrial buildings that made up much of the steadily growing city. A heavy haze stretched over the city, blocking out the morning sun and filling the city with a putrid smell, much different to the fresh lightness of the country air that Blaine had been accustomed to for the past couple of weeks.

Blaine bit his lip nervously and headed further into the heart of the city, eyeing the people around him; men in dirty work clothes and women with crowds of children stretching for their hands, desperation swimming in their eyes. The early morning aura of the city was one of need and want, market holders setting up their stalls and great surges of people spreading out into the streets, searching for a cheap deal. Desperate beggars lined the streets, their beards long and their shoes worn down. Blaine felt a pang of unwanted guilt when he passed by them, offering them nothing but a sad look of understanding.

Blaine had heard of the lucrative steel production that resided in Sheffield, but he also knew of the horrors of the working conditions and the starvation that plagued so many of the poorer residents. He was young, though, and he was determined not to fall into such a devastating fate, despite the recent improvements to the workhouses.

He rubbed at his eyes and stopped at a public water tap that stood at the edge of the pavement on the high street. He splashed his face with the water and watched as the resulting brown water fell to the ground. He washed off his hands until they were relatively clean before, stumbling ungracefully when he was pushed away by an older man with wild eyes. Blaine backed off, biting his lip confusedly and turned towards the street again, frowning gently and considering where to go and what to do next.

That was one thing he enjoyed about his voyage; the freedom. He no longer had the controlling power of his father to order him around and tell him how he should live his life. He had the power now. He could decide whether or not he would go to a certain place or do a certain thing. It was frightening, of course, but it was also incredibly refreshing.

However, Blaine knew that this state he was living in now could never last. He knew that he'd have to settle down into a routine soon, and he knew that he couldn't carry on like this by himself forever. No one could ever be that alone forever, with no responsibility to anyone but their self and no ties or commitments that would shape the way that they felt about themselves, the world and how they acted. Blaine couldn't be so desperately singular for much longer; he needed someone. Every young boy needs someone.

Blaine wrapped his arms around himself as he entered the pub. The small lone building had a rickety sign hanging from a pole at the entrance, brandishing the name 'The Sheffield Lion'. The place smelt strongly of smoke, and Blaine had to use his elbows to get through the crowd of men who were packed into the pub, their drunken laughter splitting through Blaine's heavy head.

As he slid onto one of the flimsy wooden stools at the front, he was for once glad that his hair was such a mess and his clothes were so dirty. At least it made him look a little older than he actually was, and in a way he sort of fit into the common lower working class stereotype that made up much of that particulary grotty part of the city.

Blaine coughed nervously as he eyed the bartender, who quickly caught sight of him and raised his eyebrows at the young boy. Blaine bit his lip and stared cautiously down at his hands, flinching greatly when a loud crash came from behind him, a large burly man having fallen straight off of his chair and a crowd of seemingly un-sympathetic men gathering around him, laughing loudly at his clumsiness.

"You look a little bit lost, son." A low and sure voice broke through Blaine's thoughts and he met the eyes of the bartender, giving him a small shrug and an anxious smile that must have told the bartender everything.

"Very lost, in fact," The bartender nodded at Blaine's silence. "You want anything?"

Blaine shook his head slowly and clutched his bag tighter to his body. The bartender sighed quietly and moved towards the other end of the bar, taking an order from a boy that couldn't have been much older than Blaine. Blaine delved into his sack, finding the soft cloth that he knew encased what his mother had told him to be his most precious belonging. He slipped his fingers through the cloth until his ring finger was stroking along the delicate texture of the long dead rose. He felt his eyes start to water but hastily blinked the upcoming tears away, knowing that such a place would not welcome the nostalgic tears of a weeping teenage boy with open arms.

"Peter!" A man who had just entered the pub shouted out towards the boy that had just been served by the bartender. Peter smiled back and ushered the man towards him, gulping down some of his beer hastily. Blaine peered at them curiously, closing up the cloth around the rose and tying his bag shut quickly.

"Firby!" Peter exclaimed as the man thumped him on the back, seating himself next to Peter and quickly gesturing for the bartender to serve him.

"It's been a long time. What are you doing here in Sheffield? I 'eard you got some job down in the country. The Hummels, right?" The man swallowed down a large proportion of his beer and glanced briefly at Blaine.

"That's right," Peter confirmed. "But they're in look of a new stableboy and they gave me the job. He sent me on a coach to the city. No luck so far, not that I really know how I'm supposed to hire people. " Peter laughed lightly as Blaine's mind sparked with the possibility. In an act that he knew he could well regret later, he slipped off of his bar stool and headed towards the two men, poking Peter in the back nervously.

Peter spun around and stared hard at him, his eyes dragging up and down Blaine's face. "You alright there?"

"You're in need of a stableboy?" Blaine came straight out with it, fiddling with the strap of his bag as Peter nodded. It was silly, he knew. There was no chance of him ever wanting to hire a stranger. No chance at all.

"Yes. You're interested?" A lone eyebrow rose on Peter's forehead as Blaine considered one last time before nodding. Maybe it wasn't so useless, after all. What more did Blaine have to lose? "Do you have experience with horses? Have you worked with them before," Blaine nodded again, trying to look as sure as possible. "Any family ties? This is the sort of job where you have to put your whole self into, there's no half-arsing around."

"I have none. I assure you, I can get things done, sir." Peter nodded at Blaine's show of confidence and considered.

"Alright then, come with me…" Peter waved his hand in a circle and it took a couple seconds for Blaine to catch on.

"Blaine Anderson."

"Alright, Blaine. I'm Peter. Please don't call me sir." Blaine nodded quickly and watched awkwardly as Peter addressed his friend and patted him on the back as goodbye. Blaine was shocked. He hadn't expected that. He was practically employed.

Blaine was almost shaking by the time Peter tugged his arm and lead him out of the pub, pulling a pair of gloves onto his hands as the cold air hit them, "You can't be more than fifteen. You're young."

"I'm fourteen." Blaine replied shakily, trying his best to keep up with Peter who was speeding along the pavements with an obviously large amount of geographical knowledge of the city.

"W-Where exactly are we going?" Blaine asked suddenly, as Peter turned a corner and pointed towards a fairly large looking horse-drawn coach, the exterior of which was finely decorated.

"Hathersage," Peter replied briskly. "North Lees Hall, the Hummel estate. I can tell by your accent that you're not from 'ere," Peter looked him up and down. "It's not a long ride. We'll be there before it's dark." Peter clambered quickly into the coach and pulled Blaine up, gesturing for him to sit across from him and shouting out to the driver.

"I've no doubts that Gibbons will approve of you," Peter nodded steadily, taking another look at Blaine. Blaine shook slightly at this sudden predicament and fidgeted in his seat. "Don't look so scared. You'll fit in soon enough. The Hummels are really friendly, I promise."

Blaine nodded and stared out of the window, his heart jumping in his chest at the fact that he was heading at an alarming speed to a place he had never gone before, to serve a family he had not even heard of before that day. He could only hope that this would bring him the happiness he had been craving for months, that he would feel a part of something important. He had never expected to end up being involved in something quite like that, and he knew quite well that freedom could be rather limited in such settings, but he felt know gnawing sense of regret inside in, instead something unexpected and warm yet highly welcome swelled up in his chest. He had felt it before, he was sure of it, and it had some kind of epiphany-like effect on him. It was the feeling of hope, of a new beginning and a new chance. And it was the best thing Blaine had felt in months.

**We will meet Kurt next chapter. Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter Three

**Thank you again to everyone that has alerted this story, and to those who have reviewed, especially! Here's chapter three for you :) WhiteRoseRed xx**

3

"Kurt?"

The boy span around quickly, a wooden spoon clutched tightly in his hand, so that he was facing his father. Burt Hummel stepped into the kitchen and smiled at his son, nodding once at the head cook as she stirred a steaming pot. Kurt looked curiously at his father and gave him a questioning gaze. His father had never interrupted his cooking lessons before. He knew how much Kurt enjoyed learning new recipes, which is why he had allowed Kurt to pursue such an uncharacteristically odd hobby -well, at least for a boy anyway- without any clear disapproval at all.

"Father?" Kurt dropped the spoon carefully onto the oak table, and brushed his hands together, clouds of flour surrounding the air around them.

"I told you about our wishes to find a new stableboy to accompany Peter, you remember?" Burt started, and Kurt nodded in confirmation. "Peter went out to the city today and he brought back a boy. He will primarily care for the horses that the Earl has kindly prized you with, and he will accompany you on your riding trips to ensure your safety."

"But Father, I don't even like riding." Kurt retorted, fighting not to roll his eyes at his father, knowing that not even he would accept such a disrespectful action.

"You know it is expected of a boy of your stature and age to be a competent rider. It will do you more good than bad, Kurt, I promise you that," Burt approached his son and placed a single hand on his shoulder. "I have arranged for you to ride tomorrow afternoon. You will be able to meet him then."

"Yes, father." Kurt sighed, retrieving the spoon and acknowledging his father's exit before skipping back to Mrs Gibbons, asking her what it was he should do next.

* * *

><p>"This is Henry, a fine horse he is," Peter stepped towards a deep chestnut horse, stroking gently down his mane. "He's supposed to be Kurt's horse, though he hasn't taken to riding him much."<p>

"Wait, so Kurt is the eldest son?" Blaine asked, admiring the horse and smiling at him gently.

"No, he's the youngest. Finn is the eldest. He hasn't been at North Lees for long though. Carole only married Master Hummel a little while back. Finn isn't Kurt's blood brother, he's only his brother by the bible." Peter explained whilst dipping his hand into a bucket of water to clean them.

"What is the family like? My mother used to tell me stories about the rich, and they weren't all…well they seemed very different from people like me." Blaine said thoughtfully, leaning against the stable door.

Peter laughed. "Of course they're different. Money is everything, Blaine. To think otherwise is of upmost stupidity. The Hummels…I believe they are different. Master Hummel is gracious, yes, but don't get on his wrong side. Loyalty is vital when serving under such important people, and to display any kind of treachery, well, you might just be signing yourself a death by the noose."

Blaine swallowed and nodded, taking to playing nervously with the strap of his bag again. Blaine could hardly believe that he was there at that moment. Only that morning he had been starving and desperate, stumbling around blindly in a city that was nothing more than completely unknown to him. In the last few hours he had been signed into the Hummel Estate, fed, watered, and been assigned a bed in the lower cellar of North Lees Hall. It was almost unbelievable to Blaine, and he was quickly feeling his head cloud up with the thought of it all.

"What's the matter with you? You look like you've just seen a spirit or something." Peter queried, snapping Blaine out of his reverie.

"Nothing…" Blaine replied absently.

"Come on, we need to get you a new set of clothes before you take the young master on his ride later." Peter said, pushing himself off of the wall and quickly striding over to Blaine, tugging at his arm and forcefully pulling Blaine out of the stables, starting quickly towards the main estate.

"What, Finn?" Blaine asked breathily, struggling to keep up with Peter's fast pace.

"No, not Finn. He doesn't need someone to accompany him on his ride. He's a perfectly able horseman. Kurt, however…" Peter trailed off, knowing well that gossiping about the people you work under isn't exactly a good idea. "Let's just say that he's not as eager a rider."

Blaine nodded understandably. "That's odd, I would have thought he would be just as able as Finn."

"Mmm." Peter rushed up the path towards the hall, the frozen ground emitting soft crunches beneath his polished boots. Blaine screwed up his forehead in thought, feeling the anxiety and excitement rush through him. He was to be entrusted already with teaching the son of what must be a very important and influential family. Blaine's young mind jumped at the thought and he couldn't suppress the large creases at the side of his eyes that accompanied his smile.

* * *

><p>Blaine strode up and down the stables nervously, awaiting the arrival of his new superior with an anxiety that bubbled away in his stomach. That anxiety was even greater than the respective emotion that accompanied the one thing that he knew he must keep a secret if he was to keep his job, and possibly even his life. He knew he had to forget about Sam and all of the feelings that came with him. He would have no time to think about such feelings, being a stablehand, he figured. For that he was glad.<p>

He sucked in a deep breath and eyed Peter, watching him stroke the horsebrush expertly down another horse's side. Blaine was sure Kurt must be late. The ride was scheduled for noon, wasn't it?

"Will you calm down? You're freaking out the horses," Peter admonished, rolling his eyes and brushing a little harder at the horse. Blaine stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face Peter, eyes wide. "What's that look for? For the love of God, all you have to do is take him on a simple ride down the track I showed you, all right? It's not all that difficult."

"But what if he hates me? I can't…what if he hates me so much that he asks me to leave?" Blaine replied worriedly, lacing his hands together.

"He won't hate you, Blaine. And even if he does, he would be polite enough not to be aural about it," Peter stood up, ruffling his ginger hair and giving Blaine an amused look. "Just calm down. It will be fine. Mr Gibbons obviously thought highly enough of you to suggest that you serve Kurt more personally. Master Hummel seemed approving of you also. Nothing will go wrong as long as you know your place and don't make a mess of yourself."

Peter passed Blaine and swung out of the stable. "Oh, and don't get lost, son. That mightn't please Master Hummel."

Blaine sighed and waved him off to wherever he was going, approaching one of Kurt's horses cautiously and petting it until its eyes closed gently. He was to ride an older horse, one whose name he had already forgotten due to the frenzy of worry that was still plaguing his mind. He'd never felt this much need to impress before, mainly because he didn't actually care what his father really thought about him. He'd always known that he was a failure in the eyes of his father, and he knew that that was never ever going to change. His mother, however…he cared greatly about how she viewed him. He had always sought her approval when he was younger, and getting it made him impossibly happy.

"Please don't buck when I'm riding you, whatever you're called. I hardly think that would make a great impression of me." Blaine murmured as he smiled softly at the horse, fiddling with the leather straps that spread around the horse's muzzle.

"Why are you talking to a horse?"

Blaine spun around so quickly that he almost fell over, and had to grasp at the nearest thing, which just happened to be the horse. Blaine stumbled ungracefully, his feet slipping again as he held tightly onto the horse's reins.

"You look ridiculous." The same voice hit Blaine's ears as he stared up to the source.

He almost fell over again.

The boy, who he knew must be Kurt, was like no one Blaine had ever seen before. He was so strikingly different that Blaine was sure he must be some kind of magical entity, like the ones in the stories his mother used to sing to him. His skin was of a clear pale tone, the bright blue of his eyes brought out even more by the contrast. His hair was styled in a way that was very different to what Blaine had seen before, and his riding clothes were of a fabric that must have cost more than he had earned in his entire life. Kurt's eyes twinkled just slightly and Blaine became aware of how awkward he must seem, dangling from a very disgruntled horse.

"I…"

"My father never told me your name." Kurt raised an eyebrow, stepping tentatively into the stable. Blaine didn't miss the way Kurt's nose wrinkled just slightly at the smell of the place.

"I'm Blaine." He released the horse and wiped his hands on his trousers, semi-bowing at Kurt and instantly regretting it when the boy laughed at him.

"You're not from around here." Kurt stated, putting his hands on his hips, an action that Blaine had never seen a man perform before, but seemed to fit Kurt perfectly.

"No, master…sir? I…uh…" Blaine stuttered, feeling an inevitable blush creep up his neck as Kurt's whole body began to shake in laughter.

"Kurt, just call me Kurt. I don't really care for titles, Blaine," Kurt smiled gently, and Blaine felt almost like fainting at the amount of unexpected warmth that was communicated by a simple quirk of Kurt's lips. "So where are you from then?"

"A little place, just outside Aberdeen." Blaine replied quietly, still incredibly intimidated by Kurt.

"Scotland? I thought so. My father has a friend that often visits us in Hathersage. He's from up north." Kurt's voice was soft. It was smooth also, like the words came so incredibly easily to him. Blaine imagined that would be the case if you were someone as exposed to social situations as Kurt was.

Blaine entwined his hands and diverted his eyes to floor, missing the way Kurt's eyes darted up and down him, taking in a sight that he quickly decided he quite liked. "Let's go then. I want to get this over with."

* * *

><p>Blaine quickly discovered that Peter hadn't entirely explained Kurt's riding skills, or at least he hadn't been entirely truthful anyway. Blaine learnt a lot on that, what turned out to be, short ride. And everything he learned, was about Kurt. First of all, and most predominantly in Blaine's mind, was the obvious opinion that Kurt had for riding.<p>

Blaine had patiently helped Kurt onto the horse, making sure he was properly secure before skilfully mounting his own, having worked with horses for a considerably long time. Kurt was impatient, constantly muttering under his breath and coming up with such witty insults that Blaine almost laughed out loud at one point. Kurt's general mood during the ride had been nothing but negative, at least until he demounted anyway.

Kurt sat down gracefully on a log, placing a long strip of cloth on it first of course, and breathed a frustrated sigh as Blaine tied his horse to a riding post, one of many that lined the particular path that Peter had showed him earlier that day. It was a beautiful wood, undisturbed and so completely opposite to the dirty streets of Sheffield. Blaine wondered how often Kurt visited the nearby city. Peter had told Blaine about the Hummels' relations with the small village of Hathersage that was but a short walk from North Lees Hall. The Hummels regularly attended Sunday services at St Michael's church, Blaine was told.

"I see no point in being taught how to ride when I never intend to do so when I am older." Kurt mumbled indignantly, crossing his legs and lacing his hands over his knee.

Blaine stayed silent, careful not to let himself risk replying to Kurt with something that might be considered rude or disrespectful. He leant against a tree instead, crossing his arms over his chest, and watched intently as Kurt continued to mutter under his breath, sure he heard a few words escape Kurt's lips that he was certain that Master Hummel wouldn't approve of.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me, or at least _attempt_ starting a conversation. Just because I happen to be rich doesn't mean you can't speak to me. I don't like that…that tradition, or whatever it is." Kurt's eyes burnt into him and it was if he was physically pulled from the tree, his feet moving without the consent of his mind.

"Sorry." Blaine replied, standing awkwardly in front of Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes and patted at a space beside him. Blaine did as indicated and sat down slowly, not meeting Kurt's eyes in fear of overstepping or something. Blaine didn't really know. He still didn't quite understand how he had gotten to where he was.

"No. No, don't be sorry. Father tells me I can be hostile at times. I suppose he's right." Kurt's shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit, but enough for Blaine to notice the movement.

"My mother used to tell me that people are only hostile because of the hostilities that surround them," Blaine replied quietly, staring at his knees as Kurt looked at him curiously, just seeing the soft curve of Kurt's jaw in the corner of his eye. "I think that makes sense."

"Your mother is wise, Blaine. My mother was too, at least I think she was." Kurt's voice had softened, all harshness abandoned at the mention of his mother. Blaine knew about Elizabeth Hummel, of her tragic death. He had seen more death in his life than a fourteen year old boy usually had, but he still had no idea of it's full set of effects, of the empty hole it left in many people's hearts.

Blaine smiled sadly, crossing his arms in front of his chest again and breathing in a lungful of cold air. Kurt considered, folding his lips slowly and staring out into space. "What are you doing down here anyway? You must have travelled far."

Blaine closed his eyes softly, his mind filling with conflicting thoughts and engulfing memories. He didn't notice the way Kurt cocked his head in curiosity at him. "Very far, Master Hummel."

"Kurt."

"Sorry." Blaine shook his head, eyes still closed. The cold air was beginning to cause a stream of tingling shivers to envelope both of their bodies, prompting Kurt to quickly forget about his question and pull Blaine up instead.

"We best get back, Blaine. Thank you for this. I…you're a lot more patient with me than Peter." Kurt shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, as Blaine untied their horses before helping Kurt onto Henry. Kurt wrapped his hands around the reins and kicked the side of his foot cautiously at the chestnut horse's side, his hands closing tighter over the soft leather straps as the horse began with great energy.

Blaine quickly mounted the older horse and followed Kurt, passing him with a smirk, sure he'd seen a similar expression fire back at him from the new superior in his life.


	4. Chapter Four

**Here's chapter four for you! Thank you again for all who have reviewed. It really means a lot. **

4

In early spring 1865, when the light began to seep more prominently through Kurt's curtains in the morning, a lighter mood was set over the estate. No longer were the expansive rooms in need of a constant source of warmth from the hearth, and the supply of fresh fruits and meat became even more plentiful. Kurt was glad to be rid of the frosty mornings and unpleasant damp chill that engulfed him whenever he stepped outside. It was no fun studying in the stone tutor room, either, although Kurt was rather enjoying the increasing ridiculousness of his Latin tutor's hats.

Kurt lowered himself onto the soft fabric of his favourite lounging chair, situated near the back of the resting room. It was one of Kurt's favourite rooms in the house, due to the fact that he was usually the only one who ever ventured up the three flights of stairs to get there, leaving him in a much needed silence and with a large portion of time to sit and think whatever he wanted to think, expelling all remaining grammar points and science theories from his head.

So when his newly appointed Mother, though Kurt was still not comfortable with Carole having such a title (a fact that she was well aware of and thankfully understood) entered the room, Kurt was awakened quickly from his thoughts, almost jumping out of his chair in surprise. Carole raised her hand gently to calm Kurt and a warm smile graced her face, hands coming to her shoulders so she could remove the fur petticoat from her body. She placed the garment on a small table that stood next to a chair made of a fabric that matched that of Kurt's chair.

She sat down daintily, hands expertly smoothing with her cream skirt so that it wouldn't be creased when she stood back up again. She folded her hands over her knee and continued to smile at Kurt, leaving Kurt to awkwardly fiddle with a frayed piece of fabric that had probably been ripped from the chair by Kurt himself.

"I'm very thankful, Kurt, my dear." Carole said suddenly, the words coming quickly, as if she had wanted to speak them for a long time.

"For what?" Kurt asked quietly, meeting her eye finally.

"For your acceptance of your new brother and I." Carole spoke, eyes trained almost adoringly on Kurt.

Kurt licked his lips and lifted his shoulders slightly before relaxing them again, unsure of what to reply to her. Carole didn't seem to mind, though. She sat very still and listened to the soft crackling of the fire. "I know it must be hard for you…to adjust to this change, I mean."

"I'm used to change, ma'am. Besides, you make my father happy, and I hadn't seen him so exuberated for such a long time. Not since my mother's death, anyway." Kurt replied quietly, Carole nodding understandably and finally dropped her gaze at the mention of Kurt's mother, whose place she knew she could never fully fill.

Carole Hudson, now Hummel, the daughter of the Earl of Sheffield, had met Burt Hummel at a ball, a year or so ago. They had quickly fallen in love as their sons watched anxiously, and when Burt had finally been given permission from the Earl to propose to his daughter, Burt had done so happily, his eyes shining with adoration and his hands trembling. If Kurt had been honest, at the time, he was concerned as to what this change would bring about and how exactly he would be affected when Carole and Finn moved into North Lees Hall. Kurt had been surprisingly unbothered by Finn's sloppiness and general tendency to be everywhere you didn't want him to be, and was overjoyed to discover that he would not be taking lessons with Finn as Finn required a much more patient and slower tutor. Finn's bedroom was situated on the second floor, a few rooms down from Kurt, and Kurt was glad again that he would not have to share a room with his new brother.

Kurt had always been an only child, and this suited him yet hindered him at the same time. Kurt had grown up without other children, save a few of the younger stableboys and handservants that had come and gone over the years. He had spent a lot of his time with his Nanny, a woman by the name of Emma Bellis, who was also the Housekeeper. She had always been close to Kurt, and any time that Kurt had free after the almost endless social parties and rides and-what Kurt believed to be pointless-visits to various other estates and family houses, he had spent with Ms Bellis, being taught by her and told stories. He had always loved her singing as well, and had fallen asleep to many a famous folk song, the way she articulated the words and strung the music around every vowel and consonant beautiful to him.

Kurt had always loved singing. He sung with the all male choir at St Michael's church, one of the most talented boy sopranos that the church had ever seen. He still sang there, but not as often as he used to, due to the ever growing expectations from his father and various other people for him to get a good education and start thinking about marriage and all of these things that Kurt didn't really care about.

Suffice to say, Kurt had grown up in a privileged atmosphere, one that he was aware many others did not share. Kurt knew he was lucky, or at least he knew others thought he was lucky; living in a huge house with more servants than actual family members. But Kurt didn't find it all that enjoyable, and he felt pressured by all the expectations that being so closely entwined in a family as big as the Earl of Sheffield's provided him with. One day he would take over North Lees Hall, with a wife and children, and he would be expected to keep up the family relations with the other houses and the friends of the Hummels. It was all very daunting, and, at the age of fourteen, scared Kurt immensely.

"Kurt?" Carole's smooth voice tugged him out of his musings and he directed his sight yet again to her. She smiled faintly lifting a hand to fiddle with a strand of hair that had fallen out from the securing of the hair pin.

"Sorry," Kurt responded, setting his hand on a great pile of books that covered the table next to him.

"How are your studies going? Burt tells me your intelligence is far greater than his ever was." She smiled fondly, just at the thought of her husband.

"They are going fine. There is a lot to learn but…" Kurt shrugged absently as he trailed off. Kurt had not had much of a chance to speak to Carole properly over the past eight or so months that she had resided in North Lees Hall. He had been so busy and had barely had time to exchange even a few words at dinner. The tension of their conversation was gaining viscosity, a fact that both of them had realised. Carole didn't seem bothered, however; it was bound to take some getting used to, their new found family ties.

"And what of your riding? How is it going?" Carole asked, grasping the teacup that Kurt hadn't even realised she'd brought in.

Kurt let out an audible sigh and a short laugh. "It could be better."

"It's not really your thing, is it?" Carole said, an element of question in her voice. That surprised Kurt. No one had ever really noticed that he didn't actually want to learn how to ride. His father knew of his dislike towards it, but he had always made Kurt aware that he _had _to learn to ride. It was an essential for all boys his age; it was the done thing. And really, the only reason that Kurt was still trying was because of Blaine. Blaine was patient with him and didn't get visibly angry when Kurt failed to prompt the horse in turning the right way. Kurt was sure that if it hadn't been for Blaine's arrival, he would have crossed his arms in front of his chest and _refused_ to do any more.

"No, ma'am. Not particularly." Kurt replied quietly and Carole nodded.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not incredibly fond of needlecraft either. It's never been something I've enjoyed, but, as a woman…" Carole trailed off, knowing that even in such a lax and lenient household as the Hummels, overstepping was still very much possible.

"It is expected." Kurt finished for her, eyes understanding.

"Exactly. We all have our place in this world, that's what my father always told me." Carole replied

"Why does it have to be this way?" Kurt blurted before he could stop himself. It was a daring act for a child of his age, but he felt surprisingly safe around Carole. "Why can't people just do what they want to, not what others want them to."

Carole cocked her head sadly and watched him. "Because that is the way it has always been, Kurt. There is nothing we can do about it, however much we may oppose some of the…ideals."

* * *

><p>"Ms Bellis!" Kurt shouted after the woman who was walking steadily down the path that lead down to the stables. She turned around, a grin set upon her face as Kurt bounded towards him, wearing his riding uniform; Kurt had only to agreed to wear the clothing after Burt had finally rolled his eyes and allowed him to alter what Kurt had deemed to be the most hideous thing he had ever seen.<p>

"Kurt, sweetheart, how are you?" She cried out, pulling the handle of the basket she was carrying further up her arm. She was wearing a green dress, the colour of fresh green grass; a colour that Kurt had always loved. Her smile was warm and friendly, as it had always been, and the sight of her made Kurt instantly happier.

"I'm fine, Ms Bellis. And you?" Kurt was a little breathless as he entwined his arm with hers, the older lady's eyes shining brightly.

"I feel but a reflection of this day itself." Emma Bellis replied, making Kurt laugh. She had always been poetical, witty as well. Kurt had admired and learnt from her.

"You feel bright?" Kurt tried, and Emma chuckled.

"No, not bright, Master Hummel," Ms Bellis replied, shaking her head. She stopped them suddenly, reaching a hand out as if to touch something invisible. "Feel."

Kurt extended his arm out too, confused but not at all surprised by Emma's actions. "I don't feel anything, only the wind."

"How does the wind feel to you?" Emma asked, her voice quiet, as if she was trying to concentrate on something else.

"Soft…like it's barely there." Kurt replied, waving his arm gently.

"It feels content to me, like it doesn't have one care in the world." Emma opened her eyes, the soft hazel orbs so familiar to Kurt. Kurt took in her appearance; the light wrinkles that were starting to map her face, and the greying of her hair.

Kurt nodded and started walking again, leaning back slightly to counter the gentle negative gradient. "You are riding now?"

"Yes, with Blaine." Kurt replied as a soft gust of wind came upon them, blowing Kurt's hair back.

"How is he? I haven't had much chance to talk to him. He's always so busy." Emma tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and their pace sped up as the downhill path steepened.

"He is fine. Peter works him hard, though, I'm sure," Kurt replied. "He is a good teacher, kind as well. I can talk to him as I can you, and he knows a lot. I like hearing his stories."

"He's your friend." Emma said softly, confidently. Kurt was still amazed at how much Emma could decipher from his words.

"Friend?" Kurt asked, nibbling his lip.

"Yes, he's your friend."

"He can't be, can he?"

"Why not?" Emma asked, as if she didn't know what Kurt was talking about.

"He's not…well he's my…"

"Your servant? What reason is that?" Ms Bellis' voice was still soft and calm, as it had always been. Kurt was sure he'd never seen her angry before.

"It's no reason. Not for me." Kurt gingerly replied.

"Then he is your friend?" Emma stopped Kurt in his tracks and stood in front of him, warmth emanating from her face.

"Yes." Kurt replied, and it was true. Over the past few months he'd discovered a lot about Blaine, and had come to admire him more and more. He didn't know much about Blaine's background, only that he had not been 'happy' in his home, and that that unhappiness and wish for more had prompted him to start travelling. His new job at the Hummel estate had been by chance, one that Kurt was very thankful for. Kurt could tell Blaine things about himself and not feel weird. He could moan, and express his anger, and mutter absently and Blaine would still smile back at him. Blaine was still cautious about what he said, but Kurt listened and found comfort in Blaine's stories and opinions. They were similar, Kurt found. Well, as similar as two boys of opposite castes could be.

Emma smiled beautifully, the same smile that had graced her face when Kurt had first walked, the same smile that was present whenever Kurt had bounded up to her and shown her something he had drawn. "That admission makes you more of a man than some men three times your age, Kurt."

She ducked her head before turning and heading down a separate path to the one that Kurt was continuing down. Kurt stood for a moment and let himself think. He didn't know what she meant, nor did he know why she said it, but it made him smile, and for the first time in his life, he didn't let any negative thoughts bar his mind as he headed down to the stables.

* * *

><p>Blaine scrubbed furiously at the floor of the stable, his knees pressed hard against the stone floor and his arms aching from the continuous labour. It was his least favourite job, definitely. It also happened to be Peter's least favourite job too, which is why Blaine always ended up on his hands and knees, scrubbing brush in hand and sweat making his shirt cling to his chest. He could only thank God that he was fit enough from the hard labour of working on the Old Aberdeen farms that he hadn't collapsed yet from sheer fatigue.<p>

He was intent on getting the job done quickly that he didn't even notice Kurt's form at the entrance, his body bent over the half cut stable door and his arms crossed on the wood. Kurt stared for a moment; strangely engrossed by the way Blaine's arm was moving quickly across the floor, a look of concentration set upon his face.

Kurt made his best attempt at a cough, cringing slightly when it sounded more like a strangled choke. It did its work, though, and Blaine turned round quickly, grinning when he was met with the image of Kurt, thinking to himself how nice Kurt's hair looked with the sun shining upon it like that, but quickly snapping himself out of it when a twinge of pain sparked in him and how terribly wrong that thought was.

Blaine stood quickly and wiped his hands on his trousers quickly, wiping his wrist against his forehead and unknowingly leaving a brown mark across the skin just above his eyebrows. Kurt bit his lips to contain his laugh as he daintily opened the stable door, stepping inside cautiously and dodging the remaining horse mess. He stood in front of Blaine and picked the hanky he usually used for spills (not the one he used for his nose, that was kept in his inner jacket pocket) and lifted it up to Blaine's forehead, gently wiping across the skin, not giving one thought to the fact that he was serving his _servant_ at that point, and not vice versa.

When he was done he stepped back and showed the piece of cloth to Blaine. Blaine had a dazed look on his face and a small, dreamy-like smile met Kurt's eyes. "We couldn't have you riding along with me with that on your forehead, could we?"

"No, Master Hummel," Blaine replied, quickly snapping out of it and rushing to get the horses prepared.

"Please don't call me that, Blaine. How many times have I told you?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," Blaine said quickly, turning around and looking at Kurt apologetically.

"Stop apologising, too."

"S-"

" Don't, Blaine," Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "You know I just want you to treat me like…well like a normal person."

"But you're not a normal person, Kurt. And you know how it's supposed to be…" Blaine fastened the harness and sighed.

"I don't care about how it's supposed to be. I don't like how it's supposed to be either, Blaine." Kurt replied, and the words shook Blaine, made a swell of something so much _more_ arise inside of him. Kurt was so different to anyone he had ever met before. He was his one person and strove to live his ideals, and live to be what he wanted, not what others wanted him to be. He was scared too, though. Blaine could see that. There was so much expected of him and so very much to lose. It was a dangerous game for someone of Kurt's stature to strive to be different.

"I don't want to ride today." Kurt said suddenly, stopping Blaine from his actions immediately.

"Why would you come down to the stables if you don't want to ride?" Blaine asked, silently wishing for one answer that he was sure Kurt wouldn't give him.

"I wanted to see you." Kurt shrugged, and Blaine couldn't tear the obnoxiously large grin from his face.

"I'm just that wonderful, aren't I?" Blaine sighed, extending his arms amusedly.

"Indeed. You and your ridiculous eyebrows," Kurt shot back, turning from the entrance and heading out. "Aren't you coming?"

Blaine dropped everything and hurried out of the stables, chasing after Kurt as the taller boy headed quickly down a path that Blaine had only been down once or twice, opposed to the many times he had travelled with Kurt down their main riding route. He caught up with Kurt and ran to a stream that ran gently along the side of the path, washing his hands in the water.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked breathily, struggling to keep up with Kurt. "We're not going to get in trouble for this, are we?"

"You'll see, and no, we're not going to get in trouble." Kurt replied, leading them further down the path until the village of Hathersage was fully in sight, the spire of the church poking boldly out above the trees.

"So…does that mean you got your father's consent that we could go to wherever it is that we are going?" Blaine continued with the questions, causing Kurt to sigh again.

"No, but I'm sure I am old enough to make my own decisions. You are _my_ servant, anyway." Kurt smirked, walking faster again.

"Hey! I thought you didn't want it to be like that?" Blaine caught Kurt's shoulder and the boy snickered, bending over a little and scrunching up his nose in a way that warmed Blaine's heart. He hadn't seen Kurt like this before…not really.

"Well, Blaine…I am sorry." Blaine joined in laughing, not taking notice to where they were walking.

They wandered further, entering the village and walking straight through it, exiting Hathersage on a road that Blaine had never been down before. Blaine heard the rush of water before he saw the river, noticing the audible contented sigh that Kurt let escape his lips as he tugged at Blaine's arm and lead him through a heavily wooded area, an abundance of spring flowers causing a mix of bright contrasting colours to spot in Blaine's eyes. Climbing flowers twined around the trunks of small trees, the pure white of their buds everywhere. It was a beautiful place, Blaine thought, and Kurt seemed to be very familiar with the river.

Kurt directed him towards the river; the crashing of the water against rocks loud in their ears as Kurt set his customary cloth on a boulder, patting down beside him so Blaine would sit down. Blaine did so, sitting close to Kurt.

"This is the river Derwent." Kurt said softly, watching the steady pour of water.

Blaine didn't really know what to say, so he just sat, varying between taking in the natural beauty of the area, and the dangerous beauty he also found in Kurt. Kurt's eyes were closed for a large portion of the time, as if he had no need to look as he had the image of the place permanently set in his mind anyway.

"Don't you think it's beautiful, Blaine?" Kurt asked suddenly, after minutes of silence, those minutes being so comfortable and so filled with emotion that Blaine could hardly believe that no words had passed between him.

"Yes. Of course I do."

Kurt leant against him just the tiniest bit, but Blaine still noticed it, cherishing the small amount of warmth that Kurt shared with him. Blaine was happier than he thought he'd ever been. He hadn't been expecting it either. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be working under such a gracious family. He had Kurt, someone who seemed to understand him despite their massive differences in background and culture. It was something that Blaine knew he had to cherish and respect. It was something he had always wanted, a friend like Kurt, and despite only having been at Hathersage for three months or so, he couldn't imagine life without his daily cleaning and being playfully insulted by Peter…and Kurt.

"So, so beautiful."

* * *

><p>"Why do you look so happy?" Kurt looked up from his book un-amusedly as Finn peered over at him, an eyebrow raised.<p>

"I'm studying history, oh dear brother. I'm not happy." Kurt droned, flickering his eyes back down the page- the same page he had been looking at for the past five minutes.

"Well you must be happy about something. You've been smiling for the past hour, Kurt. You must be happy if you're smiling." Finn stated.

"Of course, Finn." Kurt rolled his eyes, but even his new brother's strange tendency to state things that really, _really_ didn't exactly need to be stated couldn't bring him down, nor could it remove the smile that certainly _had_ been upon his face for so long that his cheeks had actually begun to ache.

A smile that one Blaine Anderson had unknowingly been the reason of.

**Thank you for reading! Reviews would be amazing. I'll try to get chapter five up as soon as possible. WhiteRoseRed xx**


	5. Chapter Five

**This is the longest chapter so far! Thank you again for all of the support. It really means a lot :) WhiteRoseRed xx**

**5**

"And you'll look over the pages I told you to?" The old man said, seemingly uninterested in Kurt's presence. He was cradling his forehead in his palm, eyes red and tired, giving Kurt a very clear idea of what his history tutor had been up to the previous night; of which he was sure included a substantially large amount of cider.

"Of course, sir." Kurt said loudly, just to confirm that his assumptions were correct. Sure enough, Percy Mansfield flinched, closing his eyes momentarily to block out the morning light.

"Good." He replied, voice quiet and arms slowly crossing in front of his face.

Kurt shook his head and picked up his books quickly, bolting out of the study room. He sprinted to his bedroom, hastily chucking the books on his bed before making his way down the pristine stairs, waving off the confusion of his father and running out into the spring air.

Before he could go any further, though, the gruff voice of his father stopped him in his tracks, and he couldn't help but sigh as he spun around. "Where are you off to then?"

"Just a walk, father." Kurt lied, making sure to look his father straight in the eye.

"Why in such a rush?" Burt asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms against his chest.

Kurt's mouth opened before promptly closing again. "Just…happy?" He laughed awkwardly, eyes quickly diverting from Burt so that he could shift them to the ground, wanting to just run away and avoid the rest of his father's questions.

Burt nodded slowly, clearly not completely happy with his son's response. "You're going to see the boy, aren't you?"

"No," Kurt said quickly, eyes widening at how transparent he must be for his father to decipher that so quickly. Or perhaps not; it didn't take a genius to notice that Kurt had become very fond of the new stableboy.

"Kurt." Burt warned, his voice raising enough to practically pull the confession from Kurt's mouth.

"Yes, father, I am," Kurt sighed. "But I thought it would be a good idea if he came with me…on the walk, I mean."

"Why exactly?" Burt asked, catching onto his son's eagerness to go.

"Um…" Kurt searched his brain.

"Don't you think that continuing your studies would be a more productive way to spend your time, Kurt? Ms Bellis tells me your music is coming along just fine, and I'm sure she'd be happy to join you in the music room now," Burt suggested. Kurt sighed and painted an expression on his face that told his father without one single word that he wasn't too keen on the idea. "Fine, then. Just make an effort not to keep the boy from his duties, and I want you back for dinner at six; my friend will be arriving then , and he's bringing his daughter too."

"Yes, father. I will make sure." Kurt promised, bouncing on his toes and looking slightly pained to Burt.

"You may go."

And go Kurt did, bolting down the path with a set grin, the light wind brushing gently against his cheeks. He dodged a low-hanging tree branch, turning the corner at the bottom of the path, the newly placed gravel crunching beneath his fast feet. He swung around the stable door, almost tripping over Blaine who was on his knees at the entrance, dirt across his face and sleeves rucked up his arms.

"Kurt!" He exclaimed happily, rising from the floor and throwing the brush aimlessly into a wooden box.

Kurt beamed, shifting from foot to foot as Blaine wiped his hands quickly on a cloth, dipping it in a bucket of water that he must have collected from a nearby stream, before wiping the wet cloth across his face, droplets sliding down his dark skin and dripping onto his neck and shirt. Kurt looked away, biting his lip for reasons he didn't really understand.

"Kurt?" Blaine cocked his head and Kurt met his eyes, a dazed smile on his face.

"Blaine!" Kurt breathed, smoothing his hair back with the palm of his hand.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms in question. Kurt laughed and shook his head, folding his hands together behind his back.

"I wasn't expecting you." Blaine offered, eyeing the confused form of Peter at the other end of the stable section.

"I just finished my studying, and since it's such a lovely day…" Kurt started.

"I don't think I can, Kurt. I'd love to…really, but I really have to get these floors cleaned before Sir Fabray arrives." Blaine's eyes were apologetic.

"Oh. Him." Kurt asked.

"Your father's friend, I believe?" Blaine replied, shrugging a little.

"Yes. It'll just be for a little while, Blaine, not long at all." Kurt pleaded, taking a step forward.

"That's what you said last time, Kurt."

"And…?"

"And we were gone for some four hours," Blaine laughed. "I really do want to, Master Hummel, you know I love spending time with you." Blaine said the last bit quieter, wary of Peter.

"Please, Blaine." Kurt begged.

"Kurt…" Blaine was wavering, and Kurt could see it clearly, smirking as he placed a hand on Blaine's arm.

"Please, please, please."

"Fine." Blaine gave in.

"No. Not fine," Peter shook his head, entering Kurt's vision, and pulled Blaine back. "You are not leaving me to do this by myself, Blaine."

Blaine sighed, torn. "He's right, Kurt. I can't leave it all to him. This is my job…"

Kurt nodded slowly. "Then what if I just stay here? I can help."

"You?" Peter had to stop himself from laughing. "With all due respect, Master Hummel, this isn't really the sort of thing that someone as," He searched for the right word, "privileged as you is so accustomed to."

"Mightn't it be quicker with an extra hand, Peter? Kurt and I can work on this section and you the other." Blaine said, seeing the way Kurt was forming what Blaine had christened his 'death glare', ready to aim it straight at Peter.

Peter conceded finally, murmuring under is breath, sighing and waving his arms exasperatedly. Blaine smiled and gave Kurt thumbs up. "You might want to change out of those clothes though, Kurt."

Kurt smiled. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."

* * *

><p>"Like this, Kurt. See, she likes it." Blaine smiled, watching the way Kurt stuck his tongue out in concentration as he warily dragged the brush down the ebony horse's side.<p>

"Are you sure I'm doing this right? I don't want her to…eat me or something." Kurt worried. Blaine looked at him amusedly, patting him on the back to reassure him.

"You're doing just fine, Kurt."

Kurt smiled warmly, continuing his gentle action as Blaine stepped away from him, being back so that he could reach across to a shelf, grabbing the bottle of water and bringing it to his lips, letting some dribble down his chin so he could wash off his face again. Peter had told him that, despite only being a stablehand, appearance was very important, even more so today with the imminent arrival of William Fabray, a man that frequently visited the hall, being one of Burt's close friends from his studies at Oxford.

Kurt turned to look at Blaine, watching as his sleeve fell down his forearms, revealing a deep red scar that had always puzzled Kurt. It occurred to him then that Blaine was rather like a character Kurt was studying in yet another famous novel that he honestly didn't really care about. The character was a mystery. Nobody knew who he was, they knew nothing about his past or his family. They didn't even know his first name. For all they knew he could be a murderer, running away from his mistakes and rubbing out every last minute detail of his former self. But then again, no one really seemed to care about that poor character. He was just another nobody, one of so many.

Blaine wasn't a nobody to Kurt. He was his friend, and honestly, Kurt cared about him a thousand more than any of those awful boys he had to casually make small chat to at his father's many social invites. But Blaine was still very much an unclear picture to him, like there was a blurry sheet of glass obscuring some of the truth that made up his friend. Kurt knew not much of Blaine's past, nor why someone so young would have strayed so very far from his home. Kurt had asked once before how Blaine had obtained that scar, but had received only a shrug and a vague answer that Kurt couldn't even remember.

"Blaine," Kurt started, wringing his hands together. Blaine looked up, a gentle, serene smile lighting up his face like always. "What are you doing here?"

Blaine looked confused, dropping the water bottle back down on the shelf. He laughed. "Cleaning out the stables…because it's my job."

Kurt sighed. He couldn't quite tell whether Blaine was avoiding the real question or if he really didn't know what Kurt was inferring to. "No, Blaine. I don't mean that."

"Then what?" Blaine asked. Leaning against wall, his arms behind his back.

"I mean…why are you here? In Hathersage. How did you get here? Why did you leave your home? Where is your home?" The questions flew from Kurt's mouth, his hands forming wild gestures in the air. Blaine's pupils widened and he looked instantly uncomfortable.

"Look, Kurt…" Blaine's words wouldn't come and he lapsed into silence.

"I'll tell you a secret about me if you let me know something about you. Please, Blaine. I'm just…I just want to know a little about you, I guess. But if it's really not something you want to talk about, then that's perfectly fine." Kurt replied softly, question still clearly evident in his voice.

"It's just difficult, Kurt." Blaine sighed, fighting internally. Sure, he was confident that Kurt considered him a friend, but the fact that he ran away from that…what if Kurt were to think him a coward? What if he accidently let something more slip out…

"Do you miss them? Your family?" Kurt started, placing the cloth down as always before sitting down on the bench, Blaine still leaning against the wall, sadness filling his eyes.

"Yes," Blaine's voice trembled, and he swallowed hard. "My mother especially. My brother too, but my father…he's the reason I left Old Aberdeen, Kurt."

Kurt nodded slowly. "You have a brother."

"Yes. His name is Charlie. He's two years my elder." Blaine informed, slowly becoming more comfortable with the conversation.

"And the place you lived in…Old Aberdeen? Are your family still there?" Kurt asked, waiting patiently for Blaine's answer.

"Yes, or at least I suspect so. I haven't been in contact with them since I left." Blaine's voice dropped to barely a whisper, and Kurt felt a wave of sudden compassion surge through him, seemingly urging him to lunge straight at Blaine and hug him in a way that probably wouldn't be oh-so-comforting due to the uncharacteristic amount of sweat that was sticking Kurt's hastily put together 'work clothes' to his body.

"Why did you leave?" Kurt asked, observing how Blaine immediately tensed, his eyes trained to the floor, jaw set and the tendons in his neck rising and falling as he breathed heavily.

"Kurt…" Blaine's eyes shut, and a choked sound escaped his lips. He brought his hand to his forehead and bent foreword only, but enough for Kurt to hurry over to him and wrap a arm around Blaine.

"It's fine, Blaine. Whatever it is, if you wish not to talk about it or tell me then I won't ask anymore." Blaine shook violently against him, the memories and shame of his actions wracking through his mind relentlessly.

"I can't tell you, Kurt. I can't ever." Blaine fought back the tears and pulled away from Kurt, afraid of the sudden warmth that was spreading through him at the feel of Kurt's touch, which had nothing to do with the heat emanating off of the boy's skin.

Kurt stood back, concern in his eyes. "That's…that's fine."

"You're not angry?" Blaine stumbled over his words.

"No, of course I'm not," Kurt told him, swiping his cloth up from the bench. "We're about done here, is that right?"

Blaine nodded.

"Then let's go for a walk then. We still have a little time left before Sir Fabray is to arrive," Kurt smiled. "Then I can tell you my secret."

Blaine sniffed once, an intrigued expression settling on his face. "Come along, then." Kurt extended his arm as if to entice a stray dog, and Blaine smiled once, following him out.

* * *

><p>"Here." Kurt exclaimed, settling down on the grass and patting the ground beside him.<p>

"Here?" Blaine sat down beside him, extending his legs and looking out across the hills, the sky a clear blue with only a few fluffy clouds perfectly tainting the colour.

Kurt nodded, setting his hands behind him so he was resting on his forearms. "I haven't been here for a while. There's no time with all the work my tutors are piling on me now."

"You don't enjoy your studies?" Blaine questioned.

"Not so much. Apart from music, of course. Ms Bellis tutors me in that. She plays the harpsichord…beautifully, I think, and she's teaching me. She sings with me too. I like singing." Kurt explained, relishing the constant warmth of the sun.

"You said you'd tell me a secret, Kurt." Blaine turns his head to look at Kurt, but the other boy's eyes are closed, his pale skin lit up in the sun.

"I did." Kurt mumbled, extending his neck backwards slightly.

"Aren't you going to tell me it?" Blaine asked, amused.

Kurt turned onto his side, finally opening his eyes and quirking. "That depends on several things, Anderson."

"What things?" Blaine asked, turning his head to look into Kurt's eyes, the piercing blue glittering in the sunlight.

"Well it's a secret, so you must promise never to tell another soul." Kurt told him.

"I promise, Master Hummel, to never speak of it to another."

"And," The smile left Kurt's face and the happy expression seeped away, replaced with a hard seriousness. "I ask you not to think badly of me, Blaine. I am sure you've realised already that I'm not exactly…I'm not very like what someone like me is supposed to be, not that I care."

"I am sure that nothing you tell me could ever make me think badly of you, Kurt. I'm positive." Blaine assured him, but Kurt still looked worried, biting his lip a little.

"I don't like riding."

"I know that, Master Hummel." Blaine replied, a little confused.

"Yes, well…it's one of many things I don't like." Kurt shifted his eyes to the grass, running his fingers slowly through the strands. He seemed to consider, tongue working at the inside of his cheek.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked quietly, meeting Kurt's eyes again.

Kurt sighed almost sadly and began, "I really don't like being me," Blaine cocked his head. "Not like that. It's not as if I'm terribly depressed or anything, and that is kind of the point. There's nothing in my life that should really cause me any…well I should be happy. And Father tells me I'm lucky to have everything I do, and he's right. But there's other things that come with this sort of life."

"Like what?"

"When Father dies, take a guess as to who has to take over head position at the hall." Kurt's eyes suddenly filled with annoyance.

"Uh, you?"

"Yes, me. Exactly. It's not as if it's something I can decide, really. It's just one of those things that I have to do; that I'm _expected_ to do. I really should be happy about this, shouldn't I?" Kurt's voice had risen in volume. "I am destined to take after my Father and follow on in his path and create new paths and do all of those things that I am suppose to…and it's just…"

"You don't want to." Blaine finished for him, watching as Kurt's hand stilled against the grass. The downcast beauty of the wishes and hopes that Kurt's eyes expressed so perfectly stunned Blaine into silence, and he barely breathed as Kurt nodded.

"Not one bit," Kurt whispered. Blaine continued to stare at him. "It's stupid isn't it? It is…it's so stupid."

"No it's not. It's not stupid at all. Wanting something is never stupid, Kurt, it just means that…" The words wouldn't come to Blaine but he could already see the lessening of tension in Kurt's expression and posture. "It's not stupid."

Kurt sat up fully and bowed his head, his hair golden in the strong sunlight. "Maybe not then, Blaine. Maybe not."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Blaine offered him no answer, just a sad glance. "Please don't tell anyone, Blaine. If my father was to find out…sometimes I feel like I'm a disappointment to him, or that I will turn out to be something and someone that he most certainly wasn't expecting."

"I don't think you will ever be a disappointment to him," Blaine said, sitting up too and pulling out a dandelion from the ground. He looked at it as the words formed in his head. He blew at it, the seeds dispersing through the air, carried by the gentle breeze and falling steadily to the ground. "You will never be a disappointment to me, either."

* * *

><p>June 24th 1865. Kurt Hummel woke up uncharacteristically early that morning, but the fatigue that he should have been feeling was masked by the excitement that had building inside him over the past couple of days. He smoothed down the blanket on his bed and rotated the pillow so that it looked a little tidier. He drew the curtains carefully, tying them up and making sure they were even. He got dressed by himself, having planned out his outfit the night before. Kurt liked to do things by himself; he didn't need some pestering servant to follow him around and tend to his every need. He could do all that by himself, thank you very much.<p>

He closed his door as silently as he could, flicking his hair once more before heading down the hall, swinging happily around the banister and descending the stairs as he always did, jumping a step at the bottom in a childish act that Emma Bellis had always playfully scolded him for. He entered the coatroom, quickly finding the cloth bag that he had skilfully hidden in the inside pocket of his dinner tailcoat. He twisted the fabric around his finger and exited the poky room, happy for the early sunrise that the summer had brought as he quickly unlocked the many bolts that secured the door.

The warm morning air hung lightly around him as he ran down the path, eager to reach the stables where he was sure Blaine was already up and working. The bag bounced against his hip as he swung around the corner, the large brown forms of the stables coming into sight. He slowed down as he reached the gate, hoping to take Blaine by surprise. He reached the entrance of the first stable building and stood beside the door, holding his breath and peeking cautiously inside. There was no Blaine. He hummed in confusion before deciding that he must be in the other stable building.

He grinned, treading carefully across the gravel to minimise the amount of noise he made, following the same actions he did before, but he still didn't see him. He swung around to scan the courtyard for his friend, holding the cloth bag close to him. He sighed and made to head out of gate, searching his brain for a reason why neither Blaine nor Peter was at the stables. He was sure that Blaine had once told him that he was told to wake at half past five daily, apart from Sundays where he was permitted with arising at eight, attending church at nine with the rest of the area.

The songs of country birds rung out clear and strong, the only noise, save for Kurt's footsteps. He contemplated just heading back to the hall, but decided against it. It was a lovely morning, and he was sure his Father wouldn't mind him heading off by himself for a walk. It's not as if he was young and foolish anymore. He smiled, humming something bright as he walked briskly down the country path, the one that lead away from Hathersage and towards the rolling hills that lay towards the east.

His humming became louder, freer, and the company of only the birds, he began to sing. He wasn't sure of the song's name; he wasn't even sure if it was even a song. He was sure he must have sung it often in his youth though, and the tune came so easily to him that he was surprised that he hadn't sung it for so long. It came to him finally. It was from the days he used to sing frequently with the village choir, a song that he still did not fully understand due to his lacking Latin knowledge, although he was sure it had something to do with God; they always did.

He was only brought out of his thoughts when a loud thump came from his right. He turned quickly, snapping his head towards the form of someone who was now getting up and brushing the dirt off of his trousers. The hands that he had brought quickly in front of him lowered as he met the boy's eyes quickly.

"Blaine?" Kurt put his hand over his heart, still shocked. Had he been in a _tree_?

"Kurt, sire, sir…" Blaine babbled, bending his arm around, presumably to make sure he hadn't injured it. "I…sorry."

"What were you doing up there?" Kurt asked, pointing to the oak tree that Blaine must have fallen out of. "How did you even get up there?"

"I, err, I was looking for something," Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. "That was a lie."

"I gathered that," Kurt smiled, watching as Blaine rubbed at his knee, wincing in pain. Blaine stood up fully and moved towards him, a sharp exhale leaving his lips as his eyes closed. "Blaine?"

Kurt went to him quickly, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist. Blaine ducked his head, breathing heavily. He tried to pull away from Kurt, for reasons he really didn't know, but Kurt held him tightly and helped him over towards the stables despite Blaine's mumbled protests. He sat him down on the lone bench that stood outside of the stable building, and knelt down in front of him. He placed a careful hand on Blaine's knee, and the receiver twitched, hissing.

"You fell out of a tree." Kurt shook his head, peering at the deep red cut that ran all the way across Blaine's knee.

"Yep," Blaine breathed, peeling back the fabric, and ripping the bloodied area of the trouser off so that the hole in Blaine's trousers increased in size.

"You still haven't answered my question, Blaine," Kurt began quietly, dabbing at the wound with the handkerchief he always kept with him. He wasn't a doctor, but he did at least know that much. "What in heaven's name were you doing in a tree?"

"I like trees, and climbing them," Blaine shrugged, biting his lip when Kurt pressed a little harder against the cut. "I used to do it a lot when I was little…and it did look like a nice tree."

"That's…sweet," Kurt bowed his head as he tore at another spare piece of cloth and tied it tightly around Blaine's knee. "Such bad luck for a day like this, though…"

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked as Kurt stood up, walking over to a trough where some rainwater had collected.

"I did remember, Blaine." Kurt smiled as he dipped his hands into the water before shaking them about to dry them

Blaine looked truly confused. "Remember what Kurt?"

Kurt returned Blaine's expression, standing in front of him. "That's it's your birthday."

Blaine's eyes widened and the look of confusion evolved into one of happy-dazed-shock. "It's my…oh."

"You forgot?" Kurt exclaimed, shocked that anyone could forget a day of such importance.

"You remembered." Blaine wasn't looking at Kurt. He was staring out into the trees, hands by his side and eyebrows slowly travelling up his forehead. Kurt had remembered _his_ birthday. The fact that he had forgotten didn't even cross his mind, masked by the swelling happiness inside him.

"Of course I remembered, Blaine." Kurt felt something inside him crack, sending a rush of second-hand hurt to travel through him. Blaine had forgot his own birthday. There was silence for a long time, both of them stuck inside their own minds, an equal amount of emotion filling them, the contrast in these emotions unknown to them.

"Thank you." Blaine whispered, looking up to Kurt with sparkling eyes, receiving a sad smile in reply. Kurt sat down next to him, sighing lightly as he pulled the cloth bag up from the ground and placed it on Blaine's lap, careful to avoid his knee.

Blaine stared at it, even more warmth rushing through him. He turned to Kurt with unbelieving eyes, finger curling into the strap of the bag as he tried to convey something. "Kurt…you…is this for...?"

"For you. For your birthday," Kurt confirmed, placing a tentative hand on Blaine's other knee. "Come on. Open it then!"

"Kurt…you really didn't have to. I…I'm the person who mucks out your horses every day. I'm really not worthy of being a recipient for…for this."

"Oh, come off it, Blaine. You know I don't care for all the set etiquette. I _wanted_ to do this for you. You're my best friend." Kurt blushed furiously. Blaine's placed his hand over Kurt's, surprising him.

"Really?" Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine looked like one of those adorable rejected hunting dog puppies that he was secretly very fond of.

"Yes. Now open the bag." Kurt smiled in anticipation as Blaine untightened the top of the bag and reached a hand in, grinning.

He took out a small, slightly rounded object that was wrapped in cloth. He set the bag down for the moment, holding the object in his hands gently. He shook it once before carefully peeling off the cloth, smiling broadly when the object came into view. Kurt had spent a long time on it, making it as perfect as possible and scrapping several previous editions of it. But he was proud of what he'd made, even more so that he had made it by himself without any prompting from Ms Gibbons, the head cook.

The cake was perfectly shaped, the icing only a little smeared by the cloth. Kurt had spent what must have been a painstaking twenty minutes icing on the inscription. It was a simple cake, made of a mix that Kurt had perfected years ago. The little iced roses that ran along the circumference of the top of the cake made it difficult, however.

"I know it's not much, but-"

"Kurt, it's everything." Blaine cut him off, astonished that Kurt, his _master_, had done something like this for him. He'd turned the tables in such a beautifully unreal way that Blaine could barely contain the excitement inside him; the overwhelming swell of gratefulness and the luck he knew must have befallen him.

Blaine placed the tip of his index finger one of the roses, marvelling the soft folds of the icing that he knew must have been so difficult to make. Kurt watched him, not understanding Blaine's clear wonder with the little things.

"You like it then?" Kurt asked, rocking back and forth slowly.

"Of course I do."

Blaine looked up at Kurt. Kurt studied him. His curls were strewn messily across his forehead, the dark brown of his hair forwarding the striking hazel eyes. Long eyelashes framed his eyes and his skin looked as if it would be smooth to the touch. Blaine's smile was Kurt's favourite, though. It was like an insight to him, the _real_ him. Kurt could tell a lot from Blaine's smile. He knew the truly joyous ones, the ones that accompanied his laughs, the ones of amazement and the ones that Blaine displayed whenever Kurt did. But there were other ones, ones that Kurt could never truly understand. They were smiles, of course they were, but there was always something else kept back from them. It was as if Blaine was trying to keep something back, almost straining to do so.

It was there now; that incomplete smile. It made Kurt want to grab the boy, shake the rest of it out of him, whatever it was. Kurt bit his lip and did his best to smile back, standing hastily. "There's something else in the bag. I better get back now for breakfast but…"

Blaine smiled that smile again, eyes shining. "Happy Birthday, Blaine."

Kurt turned on his heel and briskly walked away, leaving Blaine alone and confused. He sighed once and stopped, turning around in an attempt to make his sudden departure seem more normal. "And don't you dare hurt yourself anymore. That was a good hanky I wasted."

Kurt could hear Blaine's laugh and it warmed his heart as he walked away. Kurt was confused, very confused. His friendship with Blaine was already unorthodox, he knew that, but sometimes he felt like there was something more that, something dangerous and something that he knew he definitely shouldn't embrace. He had never had someone quite like Blaine, and he figured that these feelings were normal. Perhaps he was just more comfortable with showing his emotions, unlike most men that day. It was just who Kurt was.

Blaine decided to save whatever else was in the bag till later, stowing the bag carefully and getting on with whatever horrible task Peter would set him to do. Honestly, sometimes he swore Peter believed he was a lord himself, despite only being two years older than Blaine.

He finally finished at six, clothes dirty as usual, and bid Peter goodnight before returning to the estate where his room was situated in the cellar of the place. The sheets had been changed and one of the housemaids had placed a new bunch of flowers in the vase on the dresser, as protocol in the Hummel estate. Blaine stripped of his dirty clothes, replacing them with his nightwear, and got into bed, bringing the bag with him. He'd carefully placed the cake on the dresser next to the flowers, not wanting to eat it as not to spoil it. His heart swelled whenever he as much as looked at it.

He delved into the bag, feeling the texture of parchment paper. He pulled it out, finding a rolled up piece of paper, tightly bound by a red ribbon. Red was Kurt's favourite colour, Blaine knew that. He pulled at the ribbon and unrolled the paper, instantly taking to the handwriting that he had never seen before.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I wanted to thank you. I still want to thank you, I suspect, and as long as you remain here at the hall I will l want to thank you. I'm glad it was you Peter picked up from…well, from wherever it is that he picked you up. I could not ask for a better riding instructor (although, admittedly, I have actually done less riding since you were appointed). Nor could I wish for a better friend. I cannot thank you enough for all you've done, and for your friendship._

_It is also appropriate that I wish you a happy birthday! I admit, I had to write the date down as my memory isn't brilliant, but I remembered all the same. _

_It really is an honour to know you, Blaine. And it is even more of an honour to be your friend. _

_Kurt Hummel_

Blaine re-read it several times, hardly believing the words. Kurt felt honoured…to have _him_ as a friend. He felt like someone had just presented him with a suitcase of money, except much happier. Much, much happier. He read it once more before rolling it back up and tying the ribbon around it as best he could. He headed towards the wardrobe and pulled out a pile of shirts that he had placed in front of a section of a shelf where he kept many of his personal belongings. Most of what he had brought from Old Aberdeen was there, along with a pile of letters that he had meant to send to his family but never had. He eyed them sadly.

There lay in the centre a rose, one that clearly used to be a deep red, but now displayed a sadly dull colour that was still oddly beautiful in Blaine's eyes. The petals were hard and crinkled, all fullness having left the flower in its dead state. Blaine lifted the letter up to the shelf and, for whatever reason, placed it next to rose, heat rushing inside him as he put the shirts back.

He fell asleep smiling.

**I really do appreciate all support I've received from this story, so thank you. Reviews might help me through double maths, double classics and double english tomorrow? (hint hint nudge nudge) WhiteRoseRed xx**


	6. Chapter Six

**Oh, wow. This is twenty-thousand words already. I'm going to Germany in a weeks time for an exchange and so I won't be able to update for two weeks after I update next Saturday. WhiteRoseRed x**

**6**

"You're sure we're not going to get caught?"

"Blaine, for the love of God, no." Kurt replied, trying not to be distracted by the way Blaine was wearily looking around, searching for some sort of evidence that someone was watching them.

"You know I'm not really supposed to be in here, Kurt. Your father will get terribly angry if he finds us." Blaine worried, anxiously gripping his knees. Kurt rolled his eyes, sliding his fingers off the grand piano's keys.

"Blaine, don't you trust me? He won't get angry. Father rarely gets angry. You have a couple of hours free, as do I. It isn't as if I am purposely skipping my classes or anything. Just relax." Kurt patted Blaine briefly on the knee, before returning his hands to the keys, delicately shaping them so that his fingertips touched the smooth surface of the wooden keys only lightly, and his wrists bent gently.

"Fine. Sorry." Blaine relented, slouching a bit. Kurt sighed before playing the first chords, quietly and slowly, eyes on the book of piano music he'd received for his fifteenth birthday. Blaine sat quietly as

Kurt's hands moved up and down the keys, the music displaying a variety of contrasts; piano and forte playing separated by perfectly executed crescendos and diminuendos.

"It's really pretty," Blaine said quietly, as Kurt leant against him so that he could reach his left hand down to a lower octave of the piano. "Ms Ellis is right. You are skilled."

Kurt hummed, knocking his elbow into Blaine's arm as a cue. Blaine reached forward and turned the page of the sheet music on Kurt's command, "I used to play the organ."

Kurt made a short noise that communicated that he wanted Blaine to continue, his hands moving fast yet carefully along the keys, "Yes. It wasn't a big organ, just a small one; smaller than the one in St Michael's. The church was one of my favourite places to be, back then. Nobody ever went in there during the week, so I could always go and think. The Vicar would let me play it sometimes... the organ."

Kurt wacked Blaine harder that time, his elbow digging into Blaine's arm. Blaine grunted and quickly tried to flick the page. Kurt's hands stilled against the keys as Blaine fumbled with the pages, trying to get one page to separate from the other. Kurt sighed again, tapping the toe of his shoe against the hard wood of the piano. Blaine mumbled an apology, blushing as he took the music from the stand and finally pulled the pages apart, cheeks heating up at the feel of Kurt's stare.

"Sorry," Blaine said again, wringing his hands together.

Kurt burst out laughing, head falling on to the top of the piano, body shaking. It was only when Kurt let out an unexpected snort when Blaine joined in, falling against Kurt and almost knocking the other boy off the piano stool, "You're…you really are useless today, Blaine."

"Excuse me?" Blaine protested standing up with mock anger, raising his arms up as he spoke again. "Who was the one who mucked out your horses this morning? If I'm so useless, then why don't you just muck them out yourself, your majesty?"

Kurt giggled, pushing the stool aside so that he could stand up, too. His hands flew to his hips as he rested more of his weight on one foot than on the other, effectively cocking his hip. His eyebrow rose, forming an arch on his forehead. Blaine couldn't stop himself, and his lips quirked. He breathed heavily, trying to contain the imminent laugh, but he could rip his eyes away from Kurt's scarily intimidating pose, and he spluttered a laugh, eyes crinkling from the way his smile was widening. Kurt shook his head slowly, staring at the fit of hysterics that was Blaine. A smile began to creep its way onto his face. Tears were filling Blaine's eyes when Kurt approached him, letting Blaine collapse against him, Kurt finally expelling a sharp, "Ha!"

"Master Hummel?" Kurt pulled quickly away from Blaine, facing the enquiring face of one Henry Walters, the Hummels' butler. "I was just wondering what the noise was, sir." Henry Walters barely heard Kurt's breathy laugh, as he spotted the shaking form of Blaine, the boy still wiping tear trails from his face. "Anderson? What on earth are you doing here? Get back to work immediately."

"No, Mr Walters…" Kurt fought the urge to burst out laughing again, screwing his face up into a painful expression. "Blaine was just helping me with my music. He's attended to all his tasks today."

The Butler folded his arms, still unimpressed evidently, and Kurt's remedy, as always, was to clap his hands and smile to break the silence. Henry shook his head an exited to the room, not before saying, "Well, Master Hummel, it's getting rather dark outside. I recommend you allow Blaine to carry out the rest of his tasks so he can lock up the stables."

Kurt nodded quickly, side-eying a still shaking Blaine, "Come on then."

Blaine wiped his cheeks once more, before following Kurt out of the music room. They headed down the spiral stairs, Kurt jumping the last step, and out through the main entrance hall.

"Wait, you're coming with me?" Blaine asked as Kurt grabbed a coat.

"Of course. Why shouldn't I?" Kurt replied simply, grinning and taking Blaine's arm, pulling him down the steps.

Kurt sat at the dinner table, picking at some vegetable that he definitely didn't like with his fork, elbow resting on the tabletop. Finn was wolfing down everything he could, bent over his plate. Carole tutted disapprovingly and snapped her fingers at him. Burt sat at the head of the table, he too pushing things about his plate. It was a normal scene for the Hummels.

Finn's sixteenth birthday had been a few days before. Burt had organised a small party, having close family friends attending, including William Fabray, as well as Quinn, his daughter, of whom Kurt knew for a fact Finn had his eye on.

"Quinn." Finn had said suddenly, the evening after his party when Kurt and him were reading quietly in the main lounge.

"My name is Kurt, Finn." Kurt said, uninterested by his brother.

"I know, Kurt." Finn replied, dropping his book onto the table. Kurt looked up, quirking an eyebrow.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Quinn Fabray." Finn looked as if he was thinking very hard, the expression of consideration a very rare occurrence.

"What about her?"

"Don't you think she looked beautiful tonight?" Finn asked, obviously rather eager to talk about it.

Kurt swallowed uncomfortably, "Yes, she looked very nice. What are you getting at, Finn?"

"I think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Finn said, eyes shining.

"That's nice, Finn. Can we talk about something else now?" Kurt asked, keeping his eyes on his book, though he wasn't reading.

"What age do most men get married, Kurt?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Finn." Kurt responded dully.

"Romance, Kurt. When does that start? It's in all those boring books I have to read for literature studies. You understand what I mean, don't you? There's a man and a woman, they fall in love, get married, the woman…well suddenly she's in the family way, and then one of them usually dies or gets poisoned and all that."

Kurt looked up then, curiously eyeing his brother. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well I don't know really…I was just thinking, your…our father and Sir Fabray are such good friends, and…" Finn trailed off.

Kurt's eyes widened as he gaped a little. "By God, Finn. You're not actually thinking…do you feel that way…?"

"Well she is beautiful, Kurt, I'm sure you've noticed that. She's kind as well, funny. She's rich, too."

"Finn! I know marriage is depicted as some kind of sick business deal, but that's not…you shouldn't want that."

"I don't, no. Of course not. It's just…her and I being from such, most probably equally, wealthy families…it seems as if…oh, I don't know," Finn waved his hand about unhelpfully before rising and pacing.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should carry on to live your life the way it is. You're only sixteen, Finn. Besides, you would have to seek approval from Sir Fabray, and this is the rest of your life that we're discussing here. It's not a game, and it's certainly not something that you can just back out of. You must also respect her wishes, Finn. It is the honourable thing to do." Kurt shrugged, picking through the books and placing the novel back where it was before.

Finn nodded briefly, straightening his collar. "Right."

Kurt smiled at him awkwardly, placing a hand on his shoulder, although Finn was so tall that he had to reach up to do it. "Thank you, Kurt."

"No trouble."

Blaine wrung out the cloth, letting some of the water drip down his arms. He heard Peter curse in the background, obviously having dropped something on his foot again. It was nearing nightfall and Blaine was exhausted. He dropped the cloth in a bucket, wiped the back of his wrist against his forehead, and headed out into the cold of the approaching night. The estate was rather gloomy in the wintertime, the clouds and rain creating a dismal atmosphere around the grounds. There had been no snow yet, only large treacherous patches of ice that formed during the night.

Blaine headed up the up the path, towards North Lees Hall itself, clutching his sides in the cold. It was at that moment that it struck him; he'd been working for the Hummels for almost a year. He stopped for a moment. Yes, he thought. It would be three weeks until the anniversary of his employment. It had also been more than a year since he'd left Old Aberdeen, and the same amount of time since he had seen his mother. A twinge of sadness shot through him, followed by a shudder as the cold wind brushed against his cheeks.

He entered the hall, immediately diverting from the main hall to the door that led down to the cellar bedrooms, where all of the serving men and women slept. He was so tired that he didn't notice the figure in front of him until he crashed into her, almost sending her flying down the stairs. He grabbed onto the person's arm immediately, and she spun around, hand across her heart in shock. Her facial expression evolved instantly, from surprise to fond affection.

"Heavens above, Blaine. Don't scare me like that!" She scolded playfully, waving her finger at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. She smiled warmly at him.

"Off to bed, Blaine?" She questioned cheerfully.

"Mmm," responded Blaine, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I was hoping to speak to you," She told him. Blaine offered her a fatigue-tinged curious gaze.

"What about, Ms Bellis?"

"About you," She folded her lips, and her eyes caught his. The warmth in her eyes pulled the agreement from Blaine's lips and he followed her through the corridor until he reached the common room. She gestured for him to sit as she scuttled to the small kitchen situated in the corner of the room. Blaine removed his coat from his body, draping the garment over the chair's arm carefully. Emma returned, stepping carefully and placing a cup of tea in Blaine's hands with a smile. She sat down slowly, and let out a deep exhale.

"Blaine," She began, sipping her tea. Tears pooled in her eyes as the hot liquid burnt her tongue. Blaine sat at attention, eyes fixed on her inquisitively. "How are you?"

Blaine, though thinking this a strange way to start the conversation, answered, "I'm fine, Ms Bellis."

"Good. That's good," She nodded to herself, closing her eyes thoughtfully. "Blaine, I've worked with the others here for many years. I know each and everyone of their stories; their reasons and their wishes. I know them. They are more of a family to me than anyone else ever has been. I've been here since before Kurt's birth. I am aware of the tension certain times bring, as well as having experienced enough here to be in tune perfectly with the hall and its inhabitants. The people here are like an orchestra. There are the louder instruments; they're the ones that are easy to pick out and understand. Then there are the quiet ones; those who choose not to express their selves to all, but only to the ones closest to them. Yet they still blend in, Blaine. We become one sound when we are all in the right place, all on the beat. But when someone stumbles or falls behind, they have the others to help pick them up and show them how to go on. That's how it works here, Blaine. "

She paused, watching Blaine with benevolent features.

"You are younger than most are when they come to the hall. I have never asked you this before because I believed that you needed…time, shall we say. With you I'm not even sure."

"Ms Bellis?" Blaine enquired.

"Kurt talks of you often, did you know? In fact, you seem to have become one of his favourite subjects. Never before have I learnt of someone more through another person than I have through talking to them myself. He says you can be quite the mystery sometimes." She chuckled.

"May I ask you something, Blaine?" Blaine nodded and diverted his eyes to the fire, watching as sparks appeared, accompanied by shark cracks.

"Kurt tells me you left home by choice. Why is that?" She took another sip of her tea. Blaine considered, instantly feeling his cheeks heat up.

"I wasn't happy there any longer." He shrugged, trying to leave her with just that. He really didn't like talking about the past. Kurt had learnt that, and, though he trusted Kurt more than anyone, he knew with complete positivity that he could not let anyone know of the real reason. Not if he wanted to keep his job, anyway.

"Why weren't you happy, Blaine?" Blaine squirmed in his seat, hand curled around the teacup maybe a little too tightly.

"It doesn't matter." Blaine bit his lip uncomfortably. Ms Bellis had been nothing but kind and civil to him since he had joined the Hummel estate, but he couldn't bring himself to have that kind of conversation with her. He didn't understand why she wanted to know. Perhaps it may have been her protocol, but did she not see that he wanted to be doing anything but talking to her about _that_ particular matter.

"Blaine, I'm just concerned. You haven't had any contact from your family as far as I can tell. Is that you don't want to talk to them?" She leant forward.

Blaine was silent, the sound of his heart loud and obscuring in his ear.

"I just don't want you to…Blaine, so many of us are here because we ran away. From multiple things. I ran away. Sometimes I regret it. I never got to see my little brother grow up. I don't even know where he is now. It's a decision I made when I was very young, and though I am as happy as could be here…sometimes I can't help but wonder," She seemed to fall into a state of nostalgia for a moment or two, reminiscence flashing in her eyes. "I can see how happy you are here. I can see also how happy you and Kurt make each other. I don't doubt the way you feel about the decision you made, Blaine. I just don't want you to leave them fully behind…your family. If that's…just try not to lose all contact. You might regret it if you do."

She stood suddenly, a sharp inhale of air loud in the otherwise almost silent room, "I shall be retiring to my bed now," She placed a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder. "You'd be better off getting yourself some sleep now, too."

She made to leave but before she could, Blaine stood, opening his mouth as she turned to him, "Kurt…did he want you to ask about this?"

Ms Bellis tipped her head to the side slightly, smiling with surprise, "Initially, yes. Kurt's never been one for vague answers. But Blaine, it is something that has been worrying me. I see you are content here, however. That is the most important thing."

"Thank you," Emma bowed her head somewhat. "Good night, miss."

Blaine couldn't sleep that night. He hadn't thought at the time that Emma's words would affect him much, but they did. He couldn't stop thinking about it. For his father he held no concern. It was his mother for which he could not build a barrier to supress the ever-growing wave of guilt. He had known from the very start that guilt would never leave him, but he had managed to fill his mind with other things, as not to be occupied primarily by the sickening feeling. But now it was back with more force than ever, his mind reeling and his stomach heavy.

He had thought about sending letters to his mother before. He'd even written some, though he'd never gotten to the point of actually sending them. He missed Old Aberdeen sometimes, of course. And he certainly missed his mother; but he knew he couldn't go back there. His Father would never forgive him, and he would only be the cause of more pain for his mother.

He was happy working under the Hummels. He had never been that happy before, and he was intent on it staying that way. He had Kurt, the best friend he had ever had. One that didn't judge him because of his background, and followed done of the rules that his father had once told him about the upper class, anger clear and seeping in his tone. Kurt was kind and generous, and possessed a heart of such splendour, as Ms Bellis had once said, that he could hardly believe he was real sometimes.

There was still the nagging pain regardless, and it drew Blaine to the point of tears that night. He found himself sitting on the floor, paper in hand and pencil poised to write. He figured writing would help him clear his mind. His pencil flitted across the page, his eagerness so strong that some words were unreadable. When finished he read over it, tears filling his eyes. With trembling hands held the paper to the floor again and addressed it: _Dear Mother…_

_**I would really, really appreciate reviews on this. I need to know if you like what I'm doing with this story, if there's anything you don't like or any suggestions you might have. It would be really helpful:) Worth continuing with this? Okay, right, I'm tired and I have maths challenge tomorrow. Thank your reading! WhiteRoseRed xx**_


	7. Chapter Seven

**I am so, so sorry for the delay with this chapter. Life just sort of got ahead of me and I fell out of my writing routine, but I should be back on track now, I think. Hope this makes up for it. WhiteRoseRed xx**

7

The annual Spring Dinner was something that Kurt always dreaded. Burt had picked up the tradition from his father, a man with many friends and a presence that had the power to silence an entire room when but one word left his lips. Burt too had such skills, being a man of humour; with a surprising amount of knowledge of things that Kurt didn't even know how he knew.

There were the regular family members that were always invited: a handful of cousins of whom Kurt had never been close to, numerous aunts and uncles, and Kurt's mad old great aunt who never failed to end up seated next to Kurt, with an annoying tendency of talking very loudly about the seemingly never-ending list of family pets. Her unbearable presence was enough to make Kurt wish that the several hundred cats she'd mentioned would come back from the dead and surround her bedside whenever she was planning on sleeping, preventing her from doing just so.

Kurt's father would always invite his closest university friends, as well as old family friends who even he wasn't that close to, but felt obliged to entertain anyway. Kurt was sure of the fact that William Fabray and his daughter would be arriving any minute by the way Finn was bouncing around nervously, his anxious energy beginning to irritate Kurt, who was trying to ignore the way Finn was vibrating and humming under his breath, leaning against the wall. Kurt muttered a muffled sentence of annoyance as Finn began pushing himself off of the wall before falling backwards again, repeating the motion over and over again. Kurt stood, sent Finn a glare, and strode out of the room, knowing that he would have to change into something a lot more formal to be presentable at dinner. It was just about the only thing he liked in the whole ordeal.

He sped up the stairs, swinging around the polished wood of the top banister pillar, and headed quickly towards the large compounds of his room, closing the door behind him. He opened the door of his walk-in wardrobe, biting his lip in decision. He tried out several options before finally deciding on one, happily observing himself in the great mirror. The tailcoat had been one that he had designed and tailored himself, with the help of Ms Bellis, of course.

The grandfather clock that stood in the hallway just outside Kurt's room sounded, the sharp bongs audible in Kurt's room, and he quickly finished off fixing his hair, exiting the room. He knew he had half an hour before he'd have to join the rest of his family and the guests in what Burt had christened 'the social room', a large room in which two dozen couches as well as several arm chairs were situated, as well as a grand set of oak cupboards, in which Kurt knew the fine selection of wines and other drinks that were brought out during such social occasions were kept.

Kurt had spent the morning deep in the woods with Blaine, and much of the afternoon continuing with what seemed to be an endless pile of study books and boring novels that he had no interest in at all. He had assigned Blaine with his formal wear the night before, since Blaine was needed to help serve the massive amount of people who would soon be arriving. Kurt thought Blaine had been a little bit overly excited about the whole idea. Honestly, though, he'd much rather be serving dinner than eating awkwardly with a bunch of people he barely knew, expected to be just as social as his father was to be.

Kurt pulled sharply at his collar as he descended the stairs. A couple of maids were hastily dusting the entrance of the place, and Kurt smiled at them as he passed. He reached the door to the cellar, not missing the curious look that a passing kitchen maid gave him as he opened the door. It was not the norm for any of the family to ever go down into the servants' quarters, but Kurt had promised to help out Blaine with his formal wear. As Kurt had suspected, Blaine didn't have all that much experience with such attire.

Kurt knocked twice on Blaine's door and was soon met with his friend's smiling face. Blaine ushered him inside and shut the door. Kurt sat at the edge of Blaine's neatly made bed and took a look at him. Blaine had managed to figure out where each garment went on his body, which Kurt commented on. Blaine just rolled his eyes and laughed gently, looking slightly anxious under Kurt's critical gaze. Kurt rose quietly, gracefully striding towards Blaine and reaching his hands out, shifting Blaine's black shortened frock coat, adjusting the collar also. He took another look. Blaine looked good…very good. It was strange to see him in such clothes, however, but Kurt was very fond of the dapper look that Blaine managed to achieve.

"Umm…Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?" Kurt responded quietly, stepping back and cocking his head to look over the slightly shorter boy again.

"Could you…my bow tie," He reached into his hand down and pulled out the light blue bow tie from his breast pocket. "Could you maybe…"

"Yes?" Kurt coaxed.

Blaine shuffled around nervously and bit his lip, "I don't know how to do a bow tie."

Kurt had to reign in the look of astonishment that he was worried Blaine would misinterpret as disgust, and instead folded his lips and smiled a smile that was probably borderline creepy.

"Would you like me to teach you?" Kurt asked, taking the tie from Blaine.

"Would you?" Blaine's still worried eyes seemed to broaden Kurt's smile as he nodded in agreement, ushering Blaine closer. Kurt tentatively extended an arm to gently push Blaine's chin up, and wound the tie around Blaine's neck, fixing it with practiced skill, quietly describing what he was doing. He pulled Blaine collar down and adjusted the bow tie just so, smiling happily when done. Blaine lowered his head again and Kurt noticed the light blush that had formed on his cheeks, tinting Blaine's tanned skin with a rosy colour.

Blaine cleared his throat, "Thank you."

"I learned to do a bow tie when I was five, Blaine. Have you honestly never worn one before?" Blaine licked his lips and backed away from Kurt, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, we never really wore them back where I lived before." Blaine said, reaching his hands up to touch the bow tie but lowering them again when Kurt raised a finger in warning.

"I can't imagine a world without bow ties." Kurt replied. Blaine laughed brightly as Kurt put his hands on his hips. "Now, what do you think of the fabulous arrangement of garments I have put together for this evening?"

Blaine sat down, crossing his legs and touching his chin in mock deep concentration. Kurt laughed at him, but continued to gesture insistently at himself.

"So?"

"It's wonderful, my lord," Blaine said, standing up at clapping his hands together. Kurt gave him an un-amused look. "No, it's nice. I like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Yes. You…you look good." Blaine said, voice cracking slightly. Kurt grinned and spun around.

"Thank you," Kurt replied. "I should hope so. This tailcoat took an age to make."

"You made it?" Blaine asked, eyebrows rising in a way that Kurt knew wasn't incredulous or disapproving. Blaine was one of the only people Kurt knew who wouldn't judge him on such a fact.

"Yes. With Ms Bellis."

"It's great. I can imagine that it took a long time. It must have." Blaine commented, still staring fixedly at Kurt's outfit.

Kurt smiled in recognition of Blaine's words, perching on the end of the bed again next to Blaine. Blaine breathed in once and spoke, "It's still odd you know. Being here, I mean. At the hall…having this job. Sometimes it still amazes me."

"It is odd, I know. Ever so odd. I can't remember how I survived riding lessons without you," Kurt raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. "Or everyday life, even. I must have been bored stiff."

"I'm sure you weren't, Kurt. My presence isn't that exciting." Blaine smiled even so at Kurt's comment, a warm rush spreading through his body as Kurt caught his eyes.

"You're my friend. Father says friends are very important. He says it doesn't matter where you are in the world, what you're doing or how much money you're making…none of that matters. As long as you have a friend, things will be better," Kurt looked at Blaine harder, and Blaine could swear that his heart had stopped for a moment. Kurt's eyes were bright, admiration shining in them, but questionable too, as if Kurt was thinking harder about it all. And he was, although Blaine couldn't be sure of it.

"I think he's right." Blaine murmured, his eyes locked with Kurt's.

"Me too. Very right." Kurt agreed, voice quiet but eyes still alive with something that Blaine couldn't quite distinguish. Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away from Kurt, and something greater than the usual warmth he felt whenever he saw Kurt or spoke to the boy started to build up in his stomach, the feeling climbing higher and higher, reaching for an area of emotion that Blaine just could not let it enter. He shot up quickly, shocking Kurt out of his stare, and laughed nervously, feeling his face flush.

"You better…what time is it? Five o'clock you have to be ready, is that right?" Blaine jabbered, pulling a drawer out quickly and rummaging around until he found his pocket watch.

"Blaine?" Kurt stood up, confused by his friend's actions. It was as if Blaine had snapped out of where ever he was, whatever he was thinking. Kurt made to walk towards Blaine, but stopped when the boy spun around quickly, finger tapping the watch in his hand.

"It's ten to, Kurt. I need to get ready…you need to…we…" Blaine closed his eyes, bringing a hand to the side of his head.

"Blaine?" Kurt stepped forward this time. "Blaine, are you alright? Why did you-"

"Just…just nervous," Blaine cut him off. "I don't want to spill soup all down one of your aunt's stoles or anything."

Kurt wasn't convinced, but appeased Blaine's wish to stay off the subject of…well, whatever it was he didn't want to talk about. Kurt didn't know. He put his hand comfortingly on Blaine's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be fine, Blaine. I'm sure of it. You should be worrying about me, for God's sake."

"All you have to do is eat!" Blaine complained, huffing as Kurt laughed.

"Only eat? On the contrary. I'm going to have to talk to all of those…people. And in addition to that, Maryssa and her Father are coming, as they do every year. I'm going to die," Kurt shot back.

"Maryssa?" Blaine questioned.

"Oh, she's the daughter of one of my Dad's other friends from when he was studying at University," Kurt explained, his face becoming one of annoyance.

"You don't like her?"

"Not one bit. Though she seems to be under some impression that I adore spending time with her or something equally untrue. She's one of the most obnoxious people I've ever had the displeasure to meet," Kurt grumbled.

"I take it you haven't actually told her this."

"Of course I haven't! What on earth do you take me for, Blaine?" Kurt placed his hands on his hips, causing Blaine to laugh.

"Don't laugh at me. I hate social occasions. And my luck will have me sitting between Maryssa _and_ my great aunt."

"Ah, your great aunt. Good luck," Blaine was still slightly stiff and uncomfortable when he patted Kurt on the back, but the smile he displayed was perfectly genuine.

"Thanks," Kurt replied with a short, sharp smile. He took Blaine's hand and shook it jokily, aware of the heat that began to prick up his arm. "You too."

* * *

><p>"Percy, that's what I named him, Kurt. And a fine cat he was indeed. He had such beautiful markings, I tell you. He was ginger…oh no, oh gosh, he wasn't. My memory really isn't quite what it was ten years ago. Damson was ginger, yes. Did I ever tell you the story about…"<p>

Kurt was pretty sure he was about to collapse into his soup. Just as he had suspected, he ended up seated next to his eccentric aunt, and the amount of effort he was having to muster just to contain the urge he had to knock her out with the serving spoon was frankly exhausting him. On top of that, he had Maryssa sitting across from him, eyeing him every few seconds and trying to catch his attention. Kurt had never been more uncomfortable in his life.

His great aunt continued with her tale which Kurt wasn't even bothering to listen to because he'd already had it told to him…what…about a hundred times? His great aunt's memory really wasn't what it used to be; although he was certain that she was just as annoying even when she had the full use of her memory.

"Kurt? Kurt, dear?" Her voice cut through his musings and he sent her an awkward smile, sitting up straighter and focusing his eyes.

"Sorry."

"I was just wondering whether or not I'd told you about the rat infestation we had a few years ago. Terrible, just terrible. The pantry was full of the blasted things! I don't think I ever…"

Kurt lapsed back into a daze, because, yes, for God's sake _yes_, he had heard of his great aunt's oh-so-terrible sufferings because of the rat infestation. He was vaguely aware of one William Fabray's brazen laugh coming from the end of the table, and just caught the responding chuckle from his father. He looked over to the end, catching Finn with his elbow on the table, his chin propped up on his hand. He was gaping unattractively, as well as incredibly unsubtly, at Quinn, who was eating in the dainty way she always had done, pretending not to notice Finn's insistent stare.

Kurt rolled his eyes at the scene, panicking slightly when he realised that his great aunt might mistake the action as one directed at her, before he remembered that the old bat was practically blind. He sat with a fake smile as the woman continued to animatedly talk, waving her hands about constantly.

It seemed an age until the soup bowls were collected, as well as the corresponding spoons, and Kurt sighed in a relief as his great aunt _finally_ turned to talk to his cousin, George, who looked as if someone had just told him a close family member had died when the old woman began talking to him. Well, like any close member except for his great aunt had died, that is. Kurt was pretty sure that if someone told him his great aunt had died he might just bake a cake to celebrate the wonderful occasion. Or perhaps that was too vindictive.

Kurt immediately caught Blaine's eye as he entered the dining hall along with around fifteen other well-dressed servers. Blaine was biting his lip slightly as he concentrated on not dropping what he was carrying. He bent over and placed the plate he was carrying in front of Maryssa, who gave him a steely look. Blaine smiled lightly at Kurt and returned the smile, mouthing 'well done'.

Kurt ate his main course quietly, pretending that he actually liked whatever it was that was on his plate. He was pretty sure it was rabbit, though. He'd never liked rabbit.

Once dessert had been served and Kurt had managed to survive through another story about his great aunt's favourite cat (who Kurt had noticed seemed to change names every time she talked about him), Burt announced that they were to retire back to the social room, where after dinner drinks would be served. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up, but soon lost all content thoughts when the old woman almost fell over her chair. She requested he escort her back to the room, and although Kurt would have liked to just leave her there, he really couldn't do that.

Kurt quickly found Finn in the room and sat down next to him, sighing greatly. Finn was gazing at Quinn again, his eyes fixed on the girl. Kurt made a noise of disapproval and nudged Finn with his elbow. "Will you stop that."

"Stop what?" Finn mumbled.

"Stop gawping at her. You look like a fish, Finn," Kurt said.

"Fine. I'm sorry," Finn replied, turning to face Kurt.

Kurt spotted Maryssa from across the room. She was standing next to father, staring right back at Kurt. Kurt looked away quickly and began rambling on about something to Finn. He was too late, though. When he looked back she was touching her father's arm before heading towards him, smiling sweetly. Too sweetly.

Kurt wanted nothing more than to vanish at that point and returning her smile when she sat next to him was incredibly difficult.

"Kurt!" Her voice was annoyingly shrill and caused Kurt to recoil a little. "It's been an awfully long time, hasn't it? How are you?"

Kurt responded, eye twitching when she flicked her hair and smiled that sickening smile at him. He knew exactly what he was going to do when the horrible evening ended, and that was to find Blaine and have a breakdown.

* * *

><p>Blaine was sitting at the head of his bed, legs crossed, wearing his nightwear. He had a book open, although he wasn't really reading it. Just scanning the pages mindlessly as his mind strayed to other things: his work, the evening, the joy of having not spilt anything on a rich person's frock…a pair of blue eyes that just wouldn't leave his mind…<p>

"Blaine!" The named almost fell off of his bed at the sudden voice, his hand over his heart as Kurt came storming through the door. Blaine's hand shot up to his heart, his palm slamming against his chest painfully, eyes wide as Kurt slammed the door shut.

"If I _ever_ have to sit through," Kurt's eyes closed momentarily as he breathed in deeply, "_that_…that again…"

Kurt waved his arms around exasperatedly for a second, still breathing heavily and seemingly trying to communicate to Blaine exactly how terrible his evening had been. Blaine sat slightly awkwardly; book still perched on his knees as Kurt calmed down. He briskly snapped the book shut, not bothering to save his page, and scooted down the bed until he was sitting with his knees crossed at the foot of the bed.

"Wasn't fun?" Blaine offered Kurt a small understanding smile that Kurt merely scoffed at.

"No, Blaine. It most certainly was not fun." Kurt was standing stiffly at the door, arms crossed tightly against his chest. Blaine shot Kurt another smile and the boy visibly relaxed, sighed, and crossed the short distance from the door to Blaine's bed.

"Maryssa?" enquired Kurt as he sat next to Blaine, the bed beside Blaine dipping from his weight.

"Yes. Her." The way Kurt spat out her name gave Blaine a pretty clear indication as to how much his friend's contempt had grown towards Maryssa that evening. Blaine hadn't liked the look of her from the second he'd briefly met her icy stare.

"The usual?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't think it was at all possible, but it seems she's gotten even more insufferable. It used to just be a tremendous bore, being in her company, but now… I just wanted to punch her in the face." Kurt clenched his fists in his lap.

"Kurt!" Blaine admonished with a small smile, smacking Kurt's forearm. "That's no way to think."

"I honestly could not care less, Blaine. If you'd had to talk to her about marriage, of all things, for naigh on two hours, you'd want to scratch her eyes out too." Kurt grumbled, rolling his eyes. Blaine laughed, to which he received a small smile in return from Kurt.

"But isn't marriage an infinitely interesting topic, Kurt?" Blaine joked.

"Not when the person you're discussing it with – well, I say discussing, but it was basically one-sided – is the most irritating female that has ever been. And it's especially not fun when she's asking you every five minutes whether or not you want to get married, and where and at what age and…it wasn't fun, Blaine. Not fun at all."

"So do you want to get married? Someday, I mean." Blaine's stomach fluttered gently for reasons unknown, as Kurt considered.

"Everyone gets married, don't they?"

"But do you want to?" Blaine persisted.

"I don't know. I know my father will definitely want me to get married at some point, and I'm pretty sure…oh, I don't know. I just don't really see the appeal in the whole thing. All Finn ever talks about is Quinn Fabray, and…I honestly don't get it. I know I probably should, but I don't. And sometimes I worry about it." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine searched his friend's face, trying to pick some scrap of emotion out of the blank expression, finding none, before Kurt's emotion changed as if he was breaking out of something.

"It's nothing to worry about, Kurt." Blaine assured him.

"You're right. I don't want to be like Finn anyway." Kurt stood, flinging his arms behind his back to catch his wrist in his palm, before deciding against it, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Blaine, who initially stiffened at the sudden feeling, but then began to melt into Kurt's warm embrace, moving his arms so that he could hug Kurt back.

Kurt pulled back quickly, grinning warmly, before expelling a 'goodnight' and exiting the room with a skip in his step that hadn't been there when he came in. Kurt exhaled harshly, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he tried to get his bearings. He hadn't been hugged like that in more than a year, but isn't wasn't just that. It was the person who had initiated it. Kurt. Kurt Hummel. The deafening sound of his heart filled Blaine's head as something sprung to the front of his mind, relating the warmth in his stomach to an idea that he had been supressing and hiding, and that he had possibly even truly believed to have abandoned until that day. He realised then what that feeling in the pit of stomach was, and with that realisation came an immediate wave of something else; something colder and sadder and very, very dangerous.

**I'm hoping for the next chapter to be quite a lot longer, and I'm planning on some certain things happening that might just include a couple of confessions coming out from the boys, so I look forward to writing that. Reviews would be very much appreciated! WhiteRoseRed xx**


	8. Chapter Eight

**I apologise for the massive delay for this! I just really haven't been keeping on top of things lately. I'm happy to say, however, that there is finally a a step forward from both of the boys in this chapter! WhiteRoseRed xx**

8

September 5th 1866

Kurt's birthday celebration was on Blaine's mind as he carried out his routine chores. He himself had been invited to the event at the estate, and he could not be more nervous about it. Never before had he sat alongside the people he worked under and he knew perfectly well that such an invitation was not made lightly. There would be talk from Kurt's relatives about just why Sir Hummel would allow a stablehand to sit amongst them instead of assigning him to serve them. Nonetheless, Blaine was still looking forward to it. He knew how long Kurt must have pestered his father into letting Blaine join them for dinner, and Blaine could not appreciate it more.

Kurt's 16th was just another reminder of how much things had changed for Blaine over the past year and a half. His friendship with Kurt had grown into something else, and he couldn't imagine going a mere week without Kurt's laugh and their streams of conversation that could only be severed by an external force; usually either Ms Bellis or Kurt's father who would stand, tapping his foot at the entrance of North Lees hall as the boys said their goodnights. The feelings that had erupted inside him on the evening of the Spring Dinner were still present in him, but Blaine's fear of the consequences managed to supress them enough so that he could act as normal as possible around Kurt. Saying that however, acting normal around Kurt Hummel is pretty difficult. At least Blaine thought so, anyway.

Kurt entered the stable that morning with a gigantic smile on his face, and a light sweat shimmering on his forehead telling Blaine that he must have run down to the stables. Kurt stumbled towards Blaine, dodging the muck on the floor as usual, and hugged Blaine tightly.

"Happy birthday." Blaine said softly, as Kurt pulled away, still smiling brightly.

"Thank you," Kurt replied. He wiped his forehead with that back of his wrist and waved a hand at Peter who, in turn, wished him a good day.

"Do you mind if I take him off your hands for a while?" Kurt asked Peter. "I'll be needing to get him ready for lunch."

Peter sighed but slipped Kurt a smile anyway, "'course, Master Hummel."

Kurt waved a hand at him in annoyance at the way Peter addressed him, but thanked him anyway, promising that any leftover cake would be delivered straight to him. Kurt pulled Blaine from the stables and they made their way up the bath towards the hall. Kurt started reciting exactly what they were to wear, and Blaine listened intently with unadulterated interest as he always did. Kurt never bored him. He swore sometimes that he could listen to Kurt's for hours. He wondered sometimes if Kurt would think him weird for that.

They headed up the stairs, Kurt spinning around the beautifully carved column ending of the banister at the top of the stairs. As soon as Blaine stepped inside the threshold of Kurt's bedroom, he was being pulled towards the massive wardrobe and stood outside. Kurt rummaged about the expanses of clothes, and finally picked out what he needed. He placed the outfit on the bed and turned on his heel to look at Blaine, his eyes expectant. Blaine grinned, and although he was certainly no expert on the sort of clothes that Kurt and his family wore, he was definitely pleased with what Kurt had picked out for him.

"You have great taste, you know?" Blaine said.

"I know."

Kurt picked up the clothing carefully and draped the trousers and waistcoat over Blaine's shoulder. He directed Blaine towards the vanity panel and waited outside. Blaine carefully put on the clothes, sure that he looked utterly ridiculous in such attire. The outfit that he had to wear for the Spring Dinner was one thing, but he had never, ever worn anything quite as expensive and foreign as what he was wearing at that moment. He stepped out from behind the vanity panel and looked down on himself, a blush rising on his cheeks. When he looked up, Kurt was staring at him with his eyebrows high on his forehead. Blaine shifted a little uncomfortably as Kurt stood up at strode before him, his eyes locked on Blaine. Blaine couldn't breath as Kurt adjusted his collar and very nearly fainted when Kurt moved Blaine's belt about so that the buckle was exactly in the middle. When he was satisfied, he looked into Blaine's eyes. Blaine swore something dark had replaced the light dancing expression that normally resided within Kurt's eyes, but before he could properly assess that theory, Kurt had turned and was jogging towards the wardrobe.

"You look great, Blaine. I knew you would." Kurt told him with an airy quality to his voice. Blaine said nothing as Kurt stuck his head right into the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of polished black shoes. He brought them to Blaine and laid them on the floor for him.

"Put those on. Your feet are about the same size as mine so they should fit fine."

Blaine nodded and backed up towards the bed. He sat on the edge and tugged the shoes on as Kurt slipped behind the panel. When his shoes were on and his laces tied, Blaine sat quietly, fiddling with the bed sheets and chewing on his lower lip. Kurt finally appeared with a tight smile as he adjusted everything just right.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked as he twirled a little. He was wearing a pair of black trousers that sat slightly lower on his hips than usual, a light green waistcoat and a covering coat that was a darker green and reminded Blaine of the ferns that litter the paths all about Hathersage and the surrounding villages. The bow tie Kurt wore was also green, but much deeper than that of the rest of his outfit.

"It's wonderful…as usual." Kurt smiled.

"I thought it might be," He countered. "Though you're the only one I really trust when it comes to giving an honest opinion, Blaine."

An increasingly familiar warmth settled in Blaine's stomach when Kurt took his hand and pulled him up.

"Father tells me I'm now a man…now that I'm 16." Kurt said conversationally as they left Kurt's room.

"I've been 16 for more than two months and I still feel the same. Nothing's really changing for me, though, so I suppose that's to be expected,"

Kurt gave him a look and Blaine quickly stated, "Not that that's a bad thing! I love it here. You know that."

"I know, Blaine. But aren't you even a little bored here? You must be! And your family…I mean, you must…" Kurt stopped. He knew from experience that talking about Blaine's family never reaped much, instead causing a bout of silence from a seemingly reminiscent Blaine.

"I'm not bored at all, Kurt." Blaine reassured him as they entered the dining hall where half a dozen maids were laying the table with the Hummel's finest cutlery and dining equipment. Kurt smiled happily at them and dragged Blaine through into the lounging room. He plopped down giddily on one of the larger couches and Blaine sat next to him. He hadn't been in the room that often, and the abundance of chairs and tables and mounds of books still stunned Blaine.

"Excited?" Blaine laughed at the sight of Kurt, who was vibrating and continuously crossing and uncrossing his legs.

Kurt turned and smiled warmly and sweetly and so many other adjectives that Blaine would never be able to list. It made his heart jump wildly in his chest and a resounding smile to stretch across his face, just as it always did.

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't realise quite how uncomfortable he really was with people until he'd had to endure an hour of constant conversation and obnoxious laughing and about fifteen different strong perfumes tingeing the air with dozens of different floral scents. Kurt would give him reassuring looks every now and again, but more often than not, Blaine would enter into yet another mindless conversation with another relative who would either look at him with disgust or find the fact that Kurt was good friends with him absolutely adorable. Both views annoyed Blaine. And to make things even more uneasy for Blaine, he had to try and ignore one Maryssa's angry glares from the opposite end of the dining table.<p>

Kurt was happily conversing with an aunt that Blaine knew he adored, as Blaine picked at his main course. When Kurt turned around with a smile and begun a conversation with him, Blaine could not be happier. Well, he was most definitely happier when the whole event was over and everyone was stuffed and lounging about in the social room. Blaine and Kurt managed to slip out of the hall into the grounds, barely able to walk after the never-ending table of desserts that had been presented to them not twenty minutes ago.

Kurt's smile remained as they all but stumbled down the path towards the large gate out the entrance. Kurt linked his arm through Blaine's and pulled him closer as they opened a sheep-gate into a large field. Autumn had begun early that year and leaves were already beginning to fall from the hundreds of oak trees that stood proudly around the immediate area. The late afternoon sun splayed its rays upon them, weaker than it had done in the summer, but still strong enough that they hadn't bothered with additional clothing before they left. Kurt directed them towards a smaller gate at the other side of the field, and they climbed over it to get to a barely there path that led steeply up one of the hills that surrounded North Lees Hall.

They came upon a fallen tree that blocked off a section of the path. Blaine made to climb over the thick trunk but Kurt instead climbed on to it and headed up towards what used to be the highest part of the oak. Blaine followed him up and sat next to him, so that both of their feet were dangling one meter or so above the ground. Kurt sighed happily.

"Happy birthday, Kurt," Blaine said again, as the light wind blew at the trees just so that a splash of sun fell upon their faces, and warmth shot down Blaine's spine.

"Stop saying that," Kurt giggled, batting Blaine's arm. "Honestly, Blaine. It's like you think I've forgotten or something. You do realise the entirety of todays celebrations were for me?"

"Shh. I just like saying it," Blaine replied with a shrug.

"Why ever would you like saying it?" Kurt asked.

_Because it makes you smile like that_, Blaine wanted to say, but he settled with, "I don't know. I just do…"

Silence settled between them comfortably as they just sat for a moment. The whistle of the wind rung gently in Blaine's ears as Kurt turned to him again and smiled. He was sure the loud beating of his heart that had been present throughout the day stopped. The blue of Kurt's eyes was only intensified by the shimmer provided by the sun, and his skin visibly shone. To Blaine, Kurt looked on the border of magical.

"You're odd," Kurt fiddled with his hair fleetingly.

"In a-"

"In a good way," Kurt said quickly.

With that, Kurt moved closer to Blaine, their legs pressing together. Kurt turned suddenly so that one leg was hanging off one side of the tree trunk, and one the other. Blaine's breath hitched as Kurt leaned closer, something between curiosity and that darker expression Blaine had seen earlier in his eyes. It scared and intrigued Blaine at the same time, until all of that emotion went and was replaced with something so truly different, that he was sure he'd never feel anything like it again. It swelled within him and burst through ever capillary and ever vein until it had fully coursed through him, throwing all of his senses out of balance. Before he could possibly pull his thoughts together and realise what was happening, Kurt was impossibly close, a silent breath from the other boy playing on his lips. A force unlike no other burst inside of him as Kurt all but surged forward, sealing his lips to Blaine's. Blaine had to reflexively slam his hands behind him to steady himself, before he regained his balance and brought his hands up again, circling them around Kurt's waist instinctively. He could feel Kurt's warmth against him, hear the inhale of breath that the other boy took, and taste the faint tinge of sugar still on Kurt's lips. He felt perfect at the moment. He didn't understand Kurt's point of view at then, but that didn't matter as he wasn't even thinking about it. He was too overwhelmed by everything that his mind had no time to process anything else. That was until Kurt finally pulled away, and reality smacked Blaine in the side of the head like metal pan. He backed away, shock and terror on his face. _Why did he do that? This can't happen…oh god, this can't ever happen._

"Blaine, I…"

"No. Oh god…"

Blaine had begun to shake as terrible memories played in his mind. He could only just register the confused expression on Kurt's face as his breathing became erratic.

"Blaine, please…"

"I've got to go. I'm sorry. Kurt, I…"

With an exasperated breath, Blaine jumped from the tree and ran, tears beginning to fill his eyes and blur that path ahead of him. He could barely breath when he reached the stable complex, grappling blindly on the wall for the coat he had left there earlier before sprinting up the path to the hall. Tears were fully running down the curve of his cheeks when he managed to somehow stumble down the stairs to the cellar and open the door to his room, quickly locking it and throwing his coat on the floor. He didn't even have the strength to remove Kurt's clothes from his body. He collapsed onto the bed, sobs wracking his body with terrifying strength.

He tried to think about it once he'd calmed down, but the whole thing scared him. Visions of his father refused to leave him, and the dangerous consequences of what Kurt had done played tortuously. And _Kurt_. Kurt had kissed him. He hadn't seen it. He hadn't even imagined that Kurt…_Kurt_…would ever even consider that…would ever feel that. Blaine wanted it; he knew he did, but nothing would ever allow him to have Kurt, to be with Kurt the way those couples in Kurt's awful novels did. He knew that and he had very nearly accepted it. But he couldn't accept it now. Not now that he'd had a taste of what he could have with Kurt. He didn't want to think about tomorrow. He didn't want to think about what he should do. Sleep seemed the only answer at that point, and so that's what he did.

**Reviews, as always, would be highly appreciated. What do you guys think? WhiteRoseRed xx**


	9. Chapter Nine

**I apologize yet again for the delay in updates. I really have not been in the writing mode lately. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy:) WhiteRoseRed xx**

Kurt's breath was coming in short puffs as Blaine sped away from him. His heart was pounding in his chest so rapidly that he could barely distinguish the break between beats. His hands were grasping the sides of the tree trunk, so shocked and so stunned that he was afraid of falling. When Blaine was out of sight, he finally pried his hands from the bark and dropped his head into them, stomach twisting and eyes closing sharply. He couldn't quite comprehend what he had just done…and what consequences could come out of his actions. But Blaine hadn't pushed him away. Sure, he was gone now, but he hadn't shown any discomfort when the action was taking place. Kurt didn't understand. He tried his best to settle his breathing as he jumped off of the fallen tree and leant against it. His eyes filled with tears and a broken sob escaped his lips as he realised the futility of what he'd done. Nothing could come of it. Nothing. Blaine knew that. _He_ knew that. Good god, the whole world knew that.

Kurt wiped his tears on his sleeve and straightened up. He realised that he had to talk to Blaine about this. Not then. He didn't think he could even put a sentence together then, but he would have to. He had to sort out his feelings, he needed to pin point the emotion that was still producing a steady warmth in his stomach underneath all the heady dread, and he needed to know just what Blaine felt. Why didn't he react? Could he really, possibly feel the same strange emotion that Kurt did? Or was he terrified? Shocked? Disgusted, even? Kurt shuddered at the thought of the last word and forced himself to start walking. The suddenly cold air stung his tearstained cheeks. It hurt. All of him hurt. But there was still something there, beneath it all, a tiny straining light that refused to be put out by the stifling worries. There was still hope.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke the next morning feeling much the same. His heart felt heavy and strange, anxious butterflies seemed to be waging some kind of war inside his stomach. It was relatively late by the time he reached the breakfast table, and when he was finally seated he had no appetite and only ate to appease a worried Ms Bellis. He slipped on a light coat at the door and waved Ms Bellis away perhaps a little too insensitively when she began pestering him about catching a cold. The gravel beneath his feet sounded thunderous every time he took a step down the familiar path, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to push away the fear and anxiety flooding through his body.<p>

He could hear his heart thumping in his chest as his legs began to shake at the prospect of what he was about to do. He was terrified; truly terrified. He'd never felt this way before. Perhaps he should just tell Blaine to forget it, to erase the memory and ask for things to be the way they had been not twenty-four hours previous. But he didn't think he could ask that of Blaine, nor did he believe he could attain such goals himself.

Kurt chewed at his lower lip. The gate seemed so much heavier than it usually did when he pushed it open. The twisting in his stomach grew more intense when he caught sight of the stable blocks. He was sure that Blaine was there. He was always up early. He had to be. Kurt took a deep breath before starting down the path. He wanted to turn on his heel and sprint away, but he knew he couldn't. _What on earth would that accomplish_, he reasoned with himself.

Blaine's form first came into his line of vision when he was around a hundred feet from the main stable building. He was carrying a bucket, strong arms holding it with ease. Kurt stopped in his tracks, just watching him as he brought the bucket into the building and exited again, with a bucket that appeared to be much lighter than the last. Blaine didn't see him, walking away from the stable blocks in blissful ignorance. Once he was out of sight, Kurt sucked up all the courage he could possibly muster and walked quickly until he was inside the wooden building. He stood silently for a moment, wet his lips, and stared intently at a suddenly incredibly interesting pile of horse excrement.

The sound of approaching footsteps prompted him to lift his head finally, and the sight of Blaine produced a large shock of sudden fear to shoot through him. Blaine's eyes were wide and terrified at the sight of him and Kurt could swear he saw Blaine's entire body twitch as if he were about to bolt away. Kurt could certainly understand the urge to do such a thing.

He swallowed loudly and cleared his throat, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to his cheeks. Blaine didn't say a word, just stood, stared at him, and finally dropped his eyes to his shoes, rubbing away at the mud with the toe of his boot. Kurt opened his mouth and then closed it again, his words getting stuck in his throat.

"Sir," Blaine's voice was tiny, so small that Kurt very nearly didn't catch it. His eyes darted around the room as Kurt tried to meet them.

"Blaine…please don't.-"

"Do you need anything, sir?" Blaine's face contorted in pain as he said the words. Kurt didn't understand. Why was Blaine doing this? He hadn't called him _that_ for months. Blaine was going to ignore it. Scrap every bit of progress they'd made as friends in the past…almost two years. Was that what he was doing? Kurt felt the tell-tale warmth of tears fill his eyes.

"Blaine, please…we need to-" Kurt stepped forward, reaching out. "I think we need to talk about this."

Kurt's voice cracked on the last word when Blaine stepped backwards with an emotionless shake of his head. His eyes were dull and lifeless and the lack of any expression on his face made Kurt want to pull him close, hug him, make him smile, laugh, anything. Desperation rose inside of him.

"No," Blaine said. His voice was cold.

Kurt thought for a moment. He could…he could order Blaine. He could. Except he couldn't, because that wasn't how things worked. He respected Blaine. Blaine wasn't an object to him. He was the most important thing in Kurt's life. So he begged. Kurt begged Blaine, but to no avail. Blaine just continued to shake his head and when Kurt finally slumped and gave up, tears wet down his cheeks, he saw just the slightest change in Blaine demeanour. Something in his eyes, small and subtle and almost unnoticeable, but it stabbed at Kurt like a knife.

Regret.

* * *

><p>Kurt's hands lay still on the piano keys. His eyes were closed and his entire body was stooped over the wooden instrument. His tutor had left with a sigh after a fairly unproductive lesson in which Kurt made absolutely no effort whatsoever. Kurt was sure that his tutor would be speaking to his father about his lack of enthusiasm but he just could not bring himself to care. He couldn't care less about anything at that moment, apart from Blaine of course. <em>Blaine<em>, who he hadn't spoken to once in the last week since his silent encounter with him. It was eating away at him, eroding every scrap of positivity from his heart.

He didn't even hear the housekeeper until she was standing a foot away from him, concerned eyes watching him carefully.

"What ever is the matter, Kurt?" Ms Bellis asked, attempting to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Nothing," Kurt replied indignantly.

"I don't believe you," She smiled, seating herself next to him. Kurt didn't look at her, only stared blankly at the keys. He placed his finger on a black ivory key, an F sharp ringing through the air. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kurt repeated, pressing his finger down repeatedly.

Kurt looked up at her, rolling his eyes when she put her hands on her hips.

"I'm fine, but thank you,"

He got up, adjusting his collar and smiled as reassuringly he could, although he could tell by the lingering concern in Ms Bellis' eyes that he hadn't been very successful. She appeared to be thinking. She lifted her right hand to her chin, letting one finger trail down her cheek slowly as she thought.

"This is about Blaine," she said finally. Kurt froze. "Are you angry at him? What on earth happened, Kurt? I haven't seen you with him for what must be a week."

"Nothing happened. I've just been busy."

Kurt knew he wasn't convincing. He scowled when Ms Bellis stood and came towards him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Please don't lie to me, Kurt. Has church not taught you anything?" She meant it to be a serious remark but her lips curled into a smile, a teasing one at that.

"You know I don't believe in all that."

"But lying is still wrong."

Kurt sighed. "I suppose so."

"I'm afraid I have to go now, Kurt, but if you ever want to talk about it, you know I will always be here," She smiled, warm and friendly and in the most motherly, protective way that Kurt has cherished for years. Life without his own mother had meant Ms Bellis had taken up much of her place. She could never fill it quite like Elizabeth Hummel, of course, but Kurt was grateful for all that she'd done.

"I know," He said quietly and nodded her a thank you before she patted him gently on the back and exited smoothly.

But she wasn't whom he needed to talk to.

* * *

><p>"Ms Bellis!" Blaine exclaimed, a hand to his heart as he dropped the horse's foot clumsily. He hastily stroked down the horse's leg as a kind of apology and stood up straight, smiling weakly at the woman standing in the doorway.<p>

"Good day," She replied cheerily.

Blaine stood awkwardly, stroking the horse absentmindedly.

"What has happened, Blaine?" Ms Bellis got straight to the point, studying the shocked expression that flashed upon Blaine's face.

"What do you mean?" Blaine said back, hands twining together.

"You and Kurt, my dear. Something is not right."

Blaine stared down at his muddy boots, teeth working away at his lower lip.

"I don't like seeing you two like this. You've been such good friends for so long. Whatever's happened, I'm sure it can be resolved if you just talk to each other," She said kindly.

"I don't think this can be resolved," Blaine murmured softly, trying to supress the tears that were beginning to fill his eyes, blurring his vision.

"Why ever not?"

"I…"

Blaine's face crumpled, and he immediately tried to hide away from her, backing towards the wall. Blaine hadn't wanted to do what he did to Kurt the week before, but he felt he had no choice. He couldn't let it continue. He was terrified of the consequences. He was terrified of what could happen to Kurt if anyone ever found out. He wanted to tell someone, though. He wanted so badly to let it all out._ Maybe now is my chance_, he thought. _Maybe now_.

"Blaine, oh goodness," Ms Bellis rushed forward and pulled Blaine into her arms, reaching her hand up into his hair and stroking comfortingly like she used to do to Kurt when he'd have a bad dream or scrape his knees.

Blaine screwed his eyes shut and willed the tears to stop, clinging onto the Housekeeper as he did so. She held him tightly, confusion wracking her mind.

"Blaine, please tell me what happened," she said as she pulled away from him. Blaine sniffed once and turned again, wetting his lips and tasting the saltiness of tears.

"I can't…oh god, I can't," Blaine shook his head.

Ms Bellis sighed helplessly, "I think you should go talk to Kurt, my love. He's in much the same state. Whatever it is, no matter what you think, you can make it better."

She gave him a smile and left silently, waving once at Peter who was heading out of an adjacent stable with Burt Hummel's stallion.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to propose to her."<p>

Kurt began to choke, coughing and tearing up as Carole patted his back violently.

"You _what?" _He asked weakly but with great disbelief. Finn just shrugged, a dopey smile on his face.

"To Quinn?" Carole asked, dumfounded. "To Quinn Fabray?"

Burt was silent at the head of the table.

"Yeah," Finn grinned. "Of course, mother."

"Finn! You're sixteen…you…" Kurt raised his arms exasperatedly, but decided to give up before he started upon seeing the irritating beaming face of his brother.

Kurt blocked out the rest of the conversation between his family and instead stared at the bread and butter pudding, half uneaten and looking less and less appealing every second. Kurt really did not have the emotional strength at that time to deal with his ridiculous stepbrother and his ridiculously obvious sickening admiration for Quinn. He had problems of his own. Big problems.

He left the table as soon as he possibly could, leaving Finn, his father and Carole to discuss Finn's plans amongst themselves. He didn't realise how truly exhausted he was until he made it to his bed, both physically and mentally. He'd been thinking over Ms Bellis' words all day, obsessively. It had been hard having a whole week without Blaine. It occurred to him during that time that he really did have a dependence on Blaine. Without him he had nothing to do, no one to talk to and no one to make him smile…well, not the smile that was solely reserved for Blaine, that is. Kurt was lonely.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a while, too tired to get changed but his mind was too full of worry for him to possibly sleep. He sighed gently. He closed his curtains, finally got changed into his favourite pyjamas in some desperate bid to make himself feel better that ultimately failed like all of his other attempts that week, and sat back down again, still lost in his thoughts.

The knock on the door dragged him from his thoughts and he lifted his head wearily to stare at the door. He rose slowly, padding over to the door and opening it, expecting a still giddy Finn to annoy him further but he didn't find that all. Instead, Blaine stood at the door, hair sopping wet from the torrential autumn rain outside, but looking so different from how he had a week ago. His eyes weren't dull anymore, now a cross between helpless and regretful. Kurt blinked once and suddenly Blaine was in his arms, warm body pressed against his. Every piece of bad feeling rushed out of Kurt at the feeling of Blaine so solid and real against him. He allowed a sob to rush out of him as Blaine pulled away, and then he smiled.

"I think we need to talk, Kurt."

**Comments and criticisms would be very much appreciated! WhiteRoseRed xx**


	10. Chapter Ten

**I am an awful updater. I again apologize for the wait. Sincerely. I hope you enjoy this! WhiteRoseRed xx**

10

"I think we need to talk, Kurt."

Blaine shut the door gently behind him, walking further into the room. Kurt nodded, following the other boy as he sat on the bed. Kurt sat softly beside him, nervousness pooling in the pit of his stomach. Blaine seemed to be feeling the emotion too, fiddling with the sleeves of his dirt-stained work shirt.

"I-I'm sorry for running away…and ignoring you," Blaine started, eyes fixed on his shaking knees. "I shouldn't have done that."

Kurt swallowed, "Why did you do it?"

Blaine was trembling, averting his eyes from Kurt and trying his hardest to supress the fear that was rising inside of him again, the fear he'd felt standing outside Kurt's door not five minutes ago. What if Kurt had changed his mind? What if…what if the kiss had just been a whim for Kurt? A mistake. Blaine shook his head.

"I was scared," Blaine answered timidly. "I don't know how to explain it. Kurt…I-"

"Hey, it's alright. Just…please don't run away from me again. I want to talk about this, about us. I want nothing more than to sort the mess we've created."

"What do you mean by mess?" Blaine asked quietly, scared that Kurt was implying that the intimate action they'd shared was not meant to be.

"I mean the mess we've made of something that…that is, or at least could be, astoundingly simple."

"Simple how?" Blaine asked, still unsure as to what Kurt was getting at.

"How did you feel Blaine? When it happened. Why didn't you push me away straightaway?" Kurt asked, meeting Blaine's eyes. Blaine was blown away by the sudden confidence he could see in Kurt's eyes. There was some other emotion too, one that Blaine hadn't properly seen since the last time he'd looked into his mother's brown eyes; a warm, compassionate and amazingly intimate emotion, that had the power to calm him, and reassure him. It was like a ray of sunshine, bright in Kurt's eyes but gentle and warming upon him.

"I felt wonderful," Blaine admitted, the truthful words alleviating slightly the tension in his stomach. "I wanted it. I only ran away after because I was terrified of it. We've never talked about this before. I had pushed it far away, Kurt."

"What had you pushed away?" There was something hopeful in Kurt's voice.

"The way I feel for you," Blaine closed his eyes as he said it, his words rushed but clear. He'd said it. That was it. It was out and he couldn't take it back now.

"Why would you push that away?" Kurt leaned closer, and took Blaine's hand in his, smoothing his thumb against the other boy's knuckles. The action sent goose bumps up Blaine's arm and a rush of exhilaration through his body. He momentarily forgot Kurt's words, but a squeeze of his hand from Kurt brought him back, and he swore the look of inquisition on Kurt's face had the power to pull words out of him.

"I pushed those feelings away as I didn't believe you would ever…reciprocate. And anyway, it's not…your novels, Kurt. Those boring novels you're forced to read. It's always…you know?"

"It's always a man and a woman?" Blaine nodded. "True, indeed, but that doesn't mean that what you feel isn't right. It doesn't mean that what I feel isn't right, either."

"What do you feel?"

"Why on earth do you think I kissed you, Blaine?"

"I thought it was just a whim. I didn't think – I got so used to the idea of you never feeling like that," Blaine tried to explain. "It was unexpected."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Blaine. It has taken me a while to realise, truly, how I think of you. You're different in my eyes. You're so different to anyone I've ever met before. After my birthday celebration, I was just so happy and it felt right and I couldn't help it and I-"

"Kurt, I don't know what to say. I'm so glad that you don't think that I'm…a freak of nature, or something along those lines."

"A freak of nature?" Kurt laughed. "If that is what the world deems you to be, Blaine, then I am right along with you, you understand?"

Blaine smiled despite the small amount of worry that was, again, trying to make itself better known, "I'm glad."

"As am I," Kurt replied, holding Blaine's hand even tighter, fiercely almost, as if he'd never let go.

"Good," Blaine said shyly, a subtle blush colouring his cheeks delicately. He lent forward just a little bit more, in hope that Kurt would understand.

Understand he did. Kurt's eyes flickered from Blaine's eyes to his lips, the reddening of his cheeks a lot more noticeable than on Blaine's. He came just the slightest bit closer and finally their lips met again. It was gentle and hesitant, but both were safe in the thought that neither of them would run away, or back out. Blaine wrapped his spare arm around Kurt's back, and breathed through his nose, moving his lips ever so slowly against Kurt's. He felt Kurt's lips form a smile against his, and it made his heart jump within his ribcage.

Kurt pulled back first, breathing heavily and smiling giddily. Blaine was displaying a look of contentment upon his face, which made Kurt smile harder.

"Did that feel right?" Blaine asked.

"Yes, it did. Very right. The rightest thing in the world," Kurt replied, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke happy the next morning. He had finally made his way down to the servant quarters the night before, after more than an hour of sitting closely with Kurt, both of them glad that they'd managed to work things out. It was the normal five am wake up for Blaine, the same old routine that he had carried out for almost two years. He picked a clean shirt from his cupboard, before he remembered something that he hadn't for a long time. He brushed his fingers gently over the dried rose that lay hidden behind his clothes, the dull red of the flower contrasting to the yellowed cream of the letter from Kurt that lay beneath it. Blaine smiled gently at the thought of the boy who had changed his life, and finally picked the rose up, holding it's crinkled shape in his palm, remembering his mother's soft words when she had given it to him. <em>When she finds him, Blaine, when she finds her true love, her eternal partner, only then must the rose leave her. <em>Blaine cocked his head slightly, taking in the sight of the flower that had once been so bright and so full. Once it's petals had been soft, but not now. Now they were dried, harsher against his skin, and crinkled. He wouldn't have thought something could be so beautiful, but it was. He thought perhaps it was even more beautiful than it had been when he first took it into his hand, for now he had a chance of having someone to associate with the flower that meant so much to a person, according to the tradition his mother had told him. He placed it gently down again.

He met Peter in the morning with a smile, one that didn't once leave his face, even when he didn't watch his step and found his foot buried in a pile of horse excrement. He could see the confusion on Peter's face. For the past week he'd been nothing but miserable, unenthusiastic, and he must have been the worst company. He whistled tunes he had never heard before, and went about his duties with a spring in his step, much to the annoyance of Peter, who was complaining about something or other. It was a Saturday, and Kurt would always come at ten on Saturday for his riding lesson, so Peter was probably moaning about being left alone to bask in misery.

Kurt arrived unusually early that morning, a smile plastered on his face that matched Blaine's. Peter rolled his eyes, which only made Blaine smile more in amusement.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asked, adjusting the saddle of Kurt's horse.

"Of course," Kurt said, and Blaine spread his arm out to indicate that Kurt could mount after he'd led the horse outside into the unusually sunny day. Blaine crossed his arms behind him, watching as Kurt gracefully mounted, and slipped his feet into the stirrups.

"Aren't you riding?" Kurt asked, when Blaine made no move to go and fetch a horse for himself.

"No, I thought I'd just walk along with you," Blaine replied with a shrug. Kurt nodded, and shook the reins, ushering the horse forward slowly. Blaine walked along beside him, as they travelled out of the stable area and onto the path that led to the village of Hathersage. They were silent for a while, Blaine walking quickly to keep up with the steady trot of the horse. They passed through the village where Blaine saw a cart outside one of the houses that hadn't been inhabited for more than a year, after the elderly woman there had passed away. A girl was standing next to the cart, her arms crossed over her chest as men carried furniture into the house. She had dark brown hair, pulled tightly into a bun. Her dress was different to what most of the woman wore in Hathersage and the Sheffield area, and when she spoke, Blaine noticed her accent to be very different as well. He hadn't heard anyone speak like that before. Another woman came into view and stood next to her, speaking quietly to one of the three men, gesturing with her hands. She was much older; while the other girl looked to be around Kurt and Blaine's age, the elder woman looked to be in her mid twenties.

"Looks like new people are moving into number 12," Blaine said. Kurt took a moment to look round as they passed, noticing them.

"Thank God," Kurt remarked. "I do love this village but it's not exactly very interesting. The same people have been living here for generations. There hasn't been a single person move here from across the country since you."

They left the village and came to a crossroad. The trees were already beginning to shed their leaves, and the streets were covered in the colours of autumn, browns and oranges, and a certain yellow that Kurt had commented on the autumn before. Kurt led them down a smaller path that they rarely ever went down. The pathway was surrounded by trees, and the gentle incline led to a large cluster of oaks, whose branches blocked out most of the sun, only small lines of light trickling through the small gaps between leaves, creating an array of spotted sunlight on the ground. Kurt stopped them at a particularly heavily wooded area, halting his horse and dismounting. Blaine helped him tie the horse securely, and took Kurt's hand when he offered it to him. He liked the connection he felt when his palm was against Kurt's. It was different. Special. He never did that with anyone else.

"I like it," Blaine commented.

"Like what?" asked Kurt, smiling and pulling Blaine towards a spot he deemed to be reasonably dry, draping the blanket they'd brought one-handedly. Blaine laughed, straightening it out with his free hand.

"I like holding your hand," Blaine blushed, but was glad when a bright smile inhabited Kurt's face.

"Me too…yours, I mean," Kurt stammered. "Blaine?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course you can," Blaine laughed, pulling Kurt closer so that the sides of their bodies were pressed together.

"I don't want to ruin it. I don't want to ruin this." Kurt fidgeted.

"You won't. You can tell me anything," Blaine reassured him, realising that their positions had swapped from the night before.

"What do we do now?" Kurt asked, eyes boring into Blaine. Blaine couldn't help but look confused.

"What are you talking about, Kurt?"

"You know what people would say about us if they found out, don't you? You do realise that this is so…so wrong to so many people. I have heard of it before. There have been relationships where, you understand, two people who are of the same gender are...together. Ms Bellis…she told me once of a young girl she knew who fell in love with another girl. She never said anything bad of it, but then again, that's just Ms Bellis for you," Kurt looked Blaine straight in the eye. "I'm only saying this as I know how hard it's going to be for us. What I said last night…I realise it was naïve of me. Just because we think it's right, it doesn't mean that everyone else is going to think the same. On the contrary, in fact."

"I know. That is exactly what I was so worried about, Kurt, but I don't want to ignore this feeling. I want to make something of it and I _want_ to be with you like those people in your novels," Blaine told him.

"So what do you think we should do?"

"I think we should keep doing what we're doing."

"But not tell anyone?"

"I think that would be best," Blaine nodded. "We'll have to cross whatever bridges there are when we get there. We'll see, Kurt. Just know that I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you."

Kurt beamed but then said teasingly, "You're the best servant I could ever have dreamed for."

"Oi!" Blaine retorted, smacking him gently on the arm, though laughing gently. Kurt smirked at him, the smirk that Blaine had strangely always loved. It showed so much of Kurt's character that he adored; his snarky personality, and his sense of humour; his sometimes brutal honesty.

"You know I'm joking, Blaine. I've never seen you like that. Well…maybe I did for a day or two," He shrugged, smiling brighter.

"I know, and you're one in a thousand for being this way, Kurt. I'm very lucky."

"You really are," Kurt joked, putting his hands on his hips and making to stand. Blaine joined him quickly, strolling slowly beside him.

"I'm so happy here, Kurt. I don't know how on earth I survived back…you know, where I was before," Blaine said.

"I wish you would tell me about why you left, Blaine. If you ever decide that you want to, you know I'm always here," Kurt said kindly.

"I know. Thank you, Kurt. I will…I want to tell you. Just not now. I'm too happy now. I don't want to ruin it," Blaine informed him, taking Kurt's hand again and turning him. Kurt nodded in understanding, tilting his head. Blaine leaned up since Kurt was the slightest bit taller than him, and their lips touched. Kurt immediately brought him closer, wrapping his arms securely around Blaine. He suddenly pulled away from the other boy, swivelling around to assess his surroundings.

"Wait. No," Kurt said hastily, when he turned back to Blaine. "Not here. Anybody could walk by."

"Of course. You're right. Sorry," Blaine shook his head.

"Come on. We'd best be getting back."

* * *

><p>The next few weeks went by surprisingly quickly. Kurt saw a lot more of Blaine than usual, and much less of his family. Ms Bellis could sense the change in Kurt's mood and had told him how glad she was that he and Blaine had sorted out whatever problem they had. He had often found himself daydreaming during meals, only snapped out of it by his father's firm hand on his shoulder. Kurt and Blaine spent a large amount of time in each other's rooms, where they knew they had privacy, getting more acquainted in a way they hadn't for the past two years. Kurt couldn't get enough of the feel of Blaine's hand in his, the press of his lips against his, and the solid pressure of Blaine's chest when he pulled Kurt in close. Kurt couldn't find a word to describe it, apart from, perhaps, addictive.<p>

It was on a day when Peter had stopped Blaine from going out because,_ "I'm absolutely sick and tired of Blaine not pulling his weight around the stables. There you go, Blaine, there's a pile of horse poo with your name on. Off you pop!", _that Kurt decided to walk into Hathersage after studying for hours, just for some fresh air. The local baker happily waved at him as he passed, and he offered back a warm smile, the pleasantness of the last few weeks putting him in a permanent good mood.

He reached the house where the two women had moved into, just as the youngest girl was exiting the house, carrying a large basket. She spotted Kurt and came towards him quickly.

"Hello!" She greeted. Her voice was loud, maybe just a little bit _too_ loud. Her smiled seemed friendly, if not a tiny bit manic. "I haven't met you before! I was sure I'd acquainted myself with everyone here. Name?"

Kurt was shocked by how direct she was, but replied nonetheless, trying not to look too stunned.

"Kurt Hummel," He replied. "I live in North Lees Hall. It's not terribly far from here. That's probably why you haven't seen me before."

"Rachel Berry," She replied brightly. "Lovely to meet you, Mr Hummel."

"And lovely to meet you, Miss Berry," Kurt said politely, smiling at her. Her happiness may have been a tad intimidating, but it was strangely catchy and only served to add to Kurt's good mood.

Kurt wasn't entirely sure how he ended up spending the rest of the day with Miss Berry, but he was happy for someone to talk to when Blaine was otherwise occupied. Rachel and her welsh accent and her inability to stop talking about herself were, in an odd way, charming to Kurt.

He got back to the estate to find Blaine covered in dirt and other unpleasant things and smelling most unappealing, but he was so giddily happy that he didn't care, and fell straight into Blaine's arms. He thought at that moment that maybe things would be okay, maybe they did have a chance. Maybe.


	11. Chapter Eleven

11

November came upon the Sheffield area unseasonably cold, frosts persistently lining the roads and paths, making them treacherous for those who trod upon them early in the morning. Almost all of the trees were bare of leaves, and the walkways around Hathersage had to be frequently raked, as the run off from the thawed frost mixed with the piles of dead leaves, creating a dangerous surface on which to walk, which Kurt had heard Henry Walter, the hall's Butler, had experienced himself when he came barging through the main doorway, cursing and mumbling as he took his soaked coat off and all but glared at Kurt who had only just woken up.

It was dry during the day, but the cold air deterred many from enjoying outdoor leisure activities that they would have usually taken part in. The nippy wind stung Blaine's cheeks as he did about his duties. He rubbed his gloved hands together to try and bring some heat to his frozen fingers, and upon finding it did no use, he blew on them. Peter snapped him back into business and he rolled his eyes, reluctantly picking up his shovel and began prying frozen horse dung from the floor of the stable building, glad at least that the cold had lessened the smell a bit.

Kurt went riding with Blaine that afternoon. It had warmed up a little, and the sun was pleasant enough. Kurt had two reasons for riding with Blaine that day. The primary one was that, well…it was Blaine. He wanted to spend as much time with him as he possibly could, which was becoming quite difficult what with Kurt's tutor practically tying him to his chair to make him study. The second reason was Maryssa Faye. Kurt had only seen her a few times after the Spring Dinner, and the few minutes that he had actually engaged in polite conversation with her was quite enough for his liking. He still despised the girl and her obnoxiousness. Miss Faye was spending the weekend with the Hummels and Kurt had very nearly reached the end of his ever-shortening (when it came to Maryssa, anyway) tether. A long ride in the cold with Blaine was a very lovely break from the irritation he felt at home.

William Faye, her father, was a kind man who had always liked Kurt, and the said boy could understand completely why his father had taken to him, but how on earth Maryssa and her father were related…he had absolutely no idea at all. The juxtaposition that Sir Faye and his snotty daughter created was both fascinating and incredibly hard to understand. Kurt had never met Maryssa's mother before, for she had been taken ill many years ago and now rarely left her household. Kurt supposed that perhaps her mother's illness could be a part of why Maryssa Faye was what she was, but although Kurt sympathised with her, he still simply couldn't stand her.

The activity in the village of Hathersage was slightly subdued from what it usually was, although children still ran along the streets, playing games that Kurt never had the chance to take part in, being born into a middle class environment. That saddened him sometimes. One little boy was playing with a spinning top, his face twisted in delight as his friend watched over his shoulder, before the latter took a turn, managing to get the top to spin faster than his friend, who laughed beside him. A girl around 5 or 6 was running down the pathway with a cloth-peg doll clutched in her hand. Another group of girls were singing loudly as they skipped. Kurt knew that they must have had to save their pocket money (if they even received any) for a long time to afford such things, or that a simple cheap toy would have constituted a Christmas or birthday present for each of the playing children. The delicately made thaumatrope that still resided in Kurt's room was so much more expensive that what the village children played with, but he was sure he would have enjoyed their games much more as a child. Kurt felt cut off from them. He _was_ cut off from them.

Blaine smiled at him greatly as they passed St Michael's church, which caused a warm rush to cascade through his body, and he returned the smile almost instantly. But this smile was soon wiped off of Kurt's face as they passed the house of the newly moved in Rachel Berry, where he saw the woman herself standing outside, accompanied by a badly dressed Finn. Usually, Kurt would have snapped at Finn straight away, because really, was he colour-blind or what? The colour of his day blazer _clearly_ didn't match that of his crinkled trousers, but instead he watched the two, unable to catch their conversation. Finn didn't notice Kurt's passing but Rachel did, and gave him a small smile as she flicked her gaze briefly to him and Blaine. Kurt wondered how Finn and Rachel had met. It was no secret that Finn was popular with women. God knows why, but his dazed expression and his lopsided smile were charming to many females. Kurt personally didn't understand it. He could see that Finn was attractive, but his personality _definitely_ had something to be desired. Kurt wondered for a moment, until Blaine started up a conversation about how Peter seemed to be getting grumpier and grumpier by the day, and Kurt listened intently as he started a story.

They spent most of the rest of the day in a secluded section of woodland, laying together, drinking and eating the picnic that Kurt had prepared with Mrs Gibbons that morning, and kissed tentatively, never long, both aware of their surroundings. When they both grew more tired, Blaine held him tightly as they talked about anything and everything. Kurt relished the feel of his strong arms around him, and almost fell asleep with his face pressed to Blaine's chest at one point. They grew quiet, barely exchanging one word, but they didn't need to. What they felt in each other was enough, more than enough. Comfort and protection and an unspoken loyalty filled the space where words would normally be, relaxing them both to a relative state considering where they were. Kurt had never felt so wonderful as he did then, his senses both alive and numbed as fatigue clouded his vision, a press of a gentle kiss against the top of the head being his last recollection before he closed his eyes and fell gently asleep.

* * *

><p>Kurt's head was resting in Blaine's lap as Blaine threaded his fingers through his hair. Blaine was sitting up against the headboard of Kurt's bed and over the course of the evening Kurt had slowly lowered himself onto Blaine, seeking to be closer. There was a relaxed silence between them. Blaine's eyes were closed and his head was tilted back against the beautifully detailed head of the bed, so that his chin was lifted up<p>

"Can I ask you something Blaine?" Kurt almost stammered the words, very nearly tripping up over them as if he had been straining himself not to let them slip out of his mouth all evening. Blaine moved his head down to stare down into Kurt's eyes, which were looking nervously up at him.

"Of course you can," Blaine replied surely, taking Kurt's hand in his. Kurt very nearly shivered at the action, still unaccustomed to someone touching him like that. It felt nice, and he paused for a moment before replying, both to compose himself to ask what he had wanted to for a fair while, and to revel in the feeling of Blaine's calloused palm against his.

"Why won't you tell me…" He bit his lip, almost scared to ask. "Why won't you tell me why you left Old Aberdeen, Blaine?"

"Kurt…"

"No, Blaine, I just…" Kurt searched for words. "It sort of feels like you don't trust me. Is that it? Because you can trust me, Blaine. I promise you can."

"Kurt, I just don't think I can tell you at the present time. It's…difficult," Blaine tried to explain. Kurt sighed.

"I've told you everything about myself, Blaine. Everything. I still know barely anything about you, and I want to know. I want to know more about you and I want to help you with whatever it is that forced you to leave!" Kurt persisted, only causing Blaine to tilt his head back again, breathing deeply.

"I know, Kurt. It's just not that easy. I…I really don't want to tell you at the moment. Can we go back to how we were?" Blaine asked gently.

"Blaine, please," Kurt pleaded. Blaine's hand dropped his.

"No, Kurt," Blaine replied, starting to become agitated.

"Why not? Please just tell me, Blaine!" Kurt sat up fully, meeting Blaine's eyes.

"Kurt, it's not going to help! Nothing's going to help," Blaine snapped, pulling away from Kurt quickly, and swinging his legs so that he was sitting on the side of the bed.

Blaine stood suddenly, tears in his eyes, muttered a hasty goodbye, and he left before Kurt could even think of a reply. Kurt's mouth was open as he stared unbelieving at the recently closed door. Regret soon became prominent in his mind as he realised that he had gone too far, and pushed Blaine to do something he didn't want to do. He sighed angrily, furious with himself.

* * *

><p>Kurt travelled to Hathersage by himself the following morning, walking leisurely. He decided not to see Blaine that morning, afraid of Blaine being angry with him and blocking him out. He walked straight to Miss Berry's house, rapping on the door soundly. It wasn't Miss Berry that opened the door, but the older of the two women that had moved in, who Kurt had discovered to be the one maid that Rachel had brought along with her. Her name was Myrtle and she had been Rachel's nanny when she was small. She greeted Kurt with a tight smile, and gestured for him to come in, bowing ever so slightly. She took Kurt's coat and scarf, as well as the carefully picked out top hat, and placed them neatly on separate hooks.<p>

"She's in the main living room, Master Hummel," Myrtle informed him, gesturing with her arm. Kurt nodded primly, thanked her, and headed into the room.

A well-stoked fire was alive in the hearth. It seemed to pour heat into the room, and the warmth of the place pleasantly surprised Kurt when he entered. The living area was almost completely full of Rachel's belongings now, after two months of carefully arranging. Kurt had discovered Rachel to be very anal when it came to the placing of her books and ornaments, paintings and memorabilia of the place she was born. Rachel had her eyes fixed on a book, which lay open on her lap. Kurt strolled over to her, peering over her.

"What are you reading?"

Rachel jumped, and her hand shot to her heart at the sound of Kurt's voice.

"Goodness, Master Hummel," She exclaimed, a hint of a smile in her voice. "Don't scare me like that."

"Terribly sorry," Kurt replied, sitting in a deep green armchair that was across from hers, adjacent to the blazing fire. She smiled at him, closing her book carefully, and placing it on a small table next to her.

"You look troubled," Her soft welsh accent was somewhat soothing, which made a change to her usual loudness and her sometimes slightly irritating inability to be subtle. Kurt laughed dryly, which did nothing but make her even more curious. "I don't suppose you came here to talk me through whatever it is that is, well, troubling you, Master Hummel."

"Kurt. Call me Kurt," Kurt insisted.

"As you wish," She rolled her eyes. "Well then?"

"You remember Blaine?" He asked.

"The stablehand?" She questioned. Kurt nodded. "Yes, I do."

"You also remember me telling you that he ran away from home?"

"From up north, yes."

"Yes, well…he has never told me _why_ he left, Miss Berry, and…I tried to ask him, and I upset him by doing so. I could never leave home and then have absolutely no contact with my family at all. I can't even fathom it. I'm worried about him," Kurt explained.

"And you're nosy," Rachel commented, folding her hands in her lap.

"Excuse me?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"You don't like him keeping secrets from you, do you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that's the main reason I wish he would tell me, but-"

"But it is partially true," Rachel nodded knowingly.

Kurt nodded reluctantly, as he knew she was right. As much as he cared about Blaine and trusted him, he did feel like he was shutting him out of his life before, as if he Kurt didn't deserve to know about it, or he wouldn't understand. Kurt wasn't entirely sure, but he knew what Rachel was referring to was wrong to feel.

"I think you should let him tell you in time," She suggested with a small shrug. "From what you've told me, you two seem very close, closer than the phony friendships that most people in your area of class have." Kurt loved the way Rachel was honest about what she thought. He had always hated the ridiculous stigma attached to women, and the boring polite conversation that women and men were supposed to engage in, 'appropriate' and 'respectable', but in the end, completely emotionless.

"You just need to give him time, and respect what he's feeling."

"I shall," Kurt replied.

"I very much like you, Kurt," Rachel said suddenly. "I told you I came to Hathersage because Abertillery was…well, dull to say the least. I came also for a change of opinion, or at least to find someone not so backward and so closed minded. My…my father's estate there was comfortable, it was always warm and the welsh countryside it just wonderful, but I felt so alone. So I asked one day if I could leave, with Myrtle of course, and find my own way. My family was reluctant at first but they let me go when they realised how unhappy I was. It's different here. Not entirely different. I was never going to find something completely new traveling only a hundred miles or so, but it is a change. And you are different to anyone I've ever met before. It is a pleasure to know you."

She leaned forward and patted him jokily on the knee, causing him to laugh.

"Now go back, apologise to him, and don't pressure him to tell you this secret you so want to know. Keep your dainty nose out, Master Hummel," She teased.

At that moment, a very familiar figure wandered ungracefully into the room. Finn smiled dumbly at the two of them, as Kurt looked at him confusedly and Rachel clasped her hands tighter together, looking taken aback. Kurt had almost forgotten what he had seen a few days back, but the image of Rachel and Finn standing close together, deep in a conversation that Kurt couldn't hear, came flying into his mind.

"Hello," Finn greeted awkwardly.

"What are you doing here, Finn?" Kurt asked his brother.

"You know him?" asked Rachel.

"Yes…yes, he's kind of my brother," Finn supplied.

"Your brother? You didn't tell me you lived at North Lees!"

"You didn't ask!" Finn retorted, waving his long arms about.

Kurt sighed as tension filled the room, the crackling of the fire the only sound breaking the silence as the discomfort between the three of them became almost tangible.

"Dear brother, would you care to explain why you're here?" Kurt repeated.

"Came to see Rachel," Finn replied.

"Clearly," Kurt replied. "Why?"

"He came to see me because I promised to lend him my copy of Villette!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping up and hurrying to the one of the bookcases, plucking the book from the shelf and passing it to Finn, who was displaying a very confused expression that Kurt was beginning to believe was permanent.

"Since when do you read Charlotte Brönte? Kurt asked.

"Since I told him he should!" Rachel answered quickly.

There was another awkward pause before Finn spoke, "So why are _you_ here, Kurt?"

"I came to visit Miss Berry," He replied. "I met her a few months ago."

"Right," Finn said. "Well…well, I'd better be off. My tutor is coming in an hour. I'll see you at dinner, Kurt. Miss Berry."

Finn bowed forward gently, eyeing her, before clumsily leaving the room. Kurt slowly turned to look at Rachel, who was pretending not to see him, staring at her fingernails. She looked up slightly, her eyes meeting Kurt's and telling all.

"Speaking of secrets, Miss Berry," Kurt smirked, receiving a sharp glare from the woman opposite him.

"Whatever falsity you think, _Kurt_, no. Your brother is an imbecile. I was merely trying to introduce him to some fine literature in an attempt to drum some intelligence into him," Rachel explained quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like-"

"Uh huh," Kurt replied, clearly not convinced. "Didn't your mother tell you not to tell lies?"

Rachel bit her lip and gave him a strange look that Kurt couldn't decipher, but he shrugged it off and laughed a little. If something was going on between his brother and Rachel, he couldn't say that he'd entirely mind, although the match did seem a little…imperfect. And as for Quinn…

Kurt quickly pushed that from his mind, and smiled reassuringly at her, "I'd better get back home, too, I'm afraid. I have something to sort out."

"Good luck with Blaine," Rachel said, picking up her book once again.

"Thank you."

"I really hope you two can work it out," She said, and there was a small twinkle in her eye that, again, Kurt couldn't work out.

"Me too."

**Right. Okay! I'm toying with the idea of maybe introducing some Faberry into this, but I could also go down the Finchel line, but only as a subplot of course, since Klaine is obviously the main game here;) I can go with either, and I thought I'd ask you guys what you'd prefer to happen:) reviews would be lovely and very helpful!**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Hello! Thank you so much for the reviews so far. It means a lot! I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, so I'm sorry for that. Reviews, as always, would be great:) WhiteRoseRed xx**

Kurt's hands twisted together nervously as he made his way back to the estate, his mind alive with worry and regret and a desperate need to receive forgiveness from the person he valued the most. He smiled wearily at those he passed, and even stopped for a short chat with the Vicar, but he was anxious to return to Blaine and apologise.

The air was dry and light about him, and despite the clear skies and the rare appearance of the sun, it was still as cold as ever. The freezing temperature did nothing to distract Kurt's attention away from what he had done earlier, though. He realised how wrong it was of him to push Blaine in such a way, when he could clearly see he doing so upset the other boy. Miss Berry's words seemed to make more and more sense by the second. He was only being selfish. He did of course care for Blaine and within the protectiveness that he felt for the stablehand, he did want to know all about him so that he could help him with any problems he had; any worries, any sorrows and any needs to just talk. But alongside that, he knew deep down that he had an unneeded and unfair way of being offended when someone did not feel safe to confide things in him.

His steps began to quicken as he neared the entrance to the stables. He shuddered as his hand met the sheen of ice that layered the wooden gate, and pushed gently, wincing at the loud creek that the old wooden structure emitted.

Kurt found Blaine on his break, nibbling gently at an iced bun. He was leaning against the wooden wall, parallel to where Kurt stood at the entrance. He rose his eyes to Kurt, but seemingly embarrassed he lowered them again to the floor, a tiny blush just visible on his cheeks, joining the soft red colouring on his nose caused by the chill of the air.

"I'm sorry," Kurt burst out.

Blaine chewed slowly as if considering.

"I think I want to tell you," Blaine replied quietly when he'd finally swallowed.

"I…if you feel comfortable with that, but Blaine…you don't have to. I'm sorry for how I was yesterday. It was completely rude and very selfish on my part. I don't want you to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Kurt, the reason I couldn't tell you is because I have tried by best to push it away for so long, because I've always known that I'd have to hide it. It reminds me of what we," he stood straight, walked towards Kurt, and took his hand in both of his, "could suffer. I don't want anyone but you. I don't believe that I ever will, but nobody will ever understand that."

"I understand," Kurt whispered.

Blaine's smile was somewhat serene just for a moment, but his face soon flickered back to unease, anxiety and a sudden awareness of their position. He sent Kurt a look that the latter has associated with a meaning: _we need to get away from here_. Kurt followed Blaine with haste, watching intently as the boy in front of him looked around nervously and ran a hand through his hair. He followed him to one of their many hidden places, and waited as Blaine calmed himself down.

"Blaine…" Kurt took his hand in his and squeezed. This intimacy contributed towards Blaine being able to look him in the eye and begin, voice quivering but still clear enough for Kurt to decipher every word.

"Old Aberdeen was very different to here. It was…well, ones future was very much set from birth. I come from a poor family. I was to grow up a farmer like my father. My brother Charlie was always my father's favourite. He's probably forgotten about me by now…I don't think he ever paid much attention to me. My mother understood me more than my father ever could. I never wanted to work on the farms, I wanted to breakaway and find a life for myself. My mother…I-I think she knew, but we both had come to terms back then that it was never going to happen, no matter how much I despised what I was to do with my life, what I was _meant_ to do with my life according to my father. There was a boy on my farming team. His name was Sam," Blaine's eyes flickered to the sky for a moment. He breathed heavily as if a wave of nausea was licking at his insides. "I really liked him. We were…we were in the barn, and I don't know how it happened, by God, I didn't understand it then, but…"

"But what, Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I kissed him, or he kissed me. I didn't think about what it really was then. Anyway…my father found us. He told Sam to stay away from me. He was shouting for so long. And then he beat me."

Kurt realised he shouldn't be so shocked by what Blaine had just told him. He knew that elders beat children all the time. It was a done thing, but his Father had never touched him in such a way, and he couldn't quite imagine it.

"Yes, well…I was terrified. He had told my mother, but she didn't act like he did. She wasn't completely accepting of it, but she wasn't angry or ashamed. I think she was just afraid for me. That's probably why she let me leave. I was supposed to go without any of them knowing. I packed a small bag and woke up well before dawn, but she found me before I could leave. She promised not to tell my father that she'd seen me go. I miss her the most, Kurt. I wish I could write her without…without _him_ being there to intervene," Blaine confided brokenly.

"Oh, Blaine. I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I can only imagine," Kurt sympathised, cupping Blaine's cheek in his hand, feeling the warmth of Blaine's tears against his cold skin. Compassion surged through his veins as he took Blaine fully into his arms and let the stablehand cry into his shoulder. Blaine's arms wrapped tightly around him as if he never wished to let go, as if Kurt was a home to him, a place of comfort and a place of safety. Kurt shushed him softly, feeling such sorrow for Blaine and all he had been put through. Kurt knew that whatever had drove Blaine to a shabby pub in Sheffield, exhausted and desperate as Peter had described, must have been terrible, but he could never have foreseen what Blaine was to tell him.

"Thank you for trusting me," said Kurt as he gently rocked the other boy who was still sniffling, but had calmed significantly.

"Thank you for being trustworthy," Blaine replied with a weak smile that nearly caused Kurt to tear up. He pressed a gentle kiss against Blaine's forehead, and felt the other boy melt further into him. Blaine's warmth soaked into him and such comfort washed over him again and again and again that he was pretty certain that he'd never want to leave.

"Come on. Let's sit," Kurt said finally, squeezing Blaine's shoulder and leading them to a dry spot.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was tentative and still fragile from the crying.

"Mmhmm?"

"What…what's going to happen to us?" Blaine looked up at him with the eyes of a small child, afraid and cautious.

"Honestly? I don't know, Blaine. We've said it before, right, that we're just going to take it step by step?" Kurt answered. "All I know is that I don't want to leave you, and I will do everything to keep you and…"

"Yes?"

"I really, really like you, Blaine. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone before," Kurt told him. This seemed to please Blaine, and again his eyes lit up like a child's, but this time with delight, which made Kurt beam.

"I really like you, too, Kurt."

They sat in silence for a while, as they did often. They were aware as always of their surroundings, but they felt relatively safe there. Appreciative as they were of having some space to themselves, the fact that they would have to remain a secret as long as they were together did bite hard. It seemed completely and utterly unfair. Kurt couldn't see what was wrong with what they were doing. He wasn't hurting anybody, was he? He was so much happier when he was with Blaine than with anyone else. He couldn't explain quite what it was, but he was almost certain that it would develop into the word that those awful novels all contained: _love_. That concept partly frightened him but also gave him a hope that he was aware to be somewhat naïve. Nonetheless, it wasn't something he was eager to give up on. Quite the contrary.

* * *

><p>Maryssa Faye came to visit North Lees a few days after Blaine had confided in Kurt. She was as rude and obnoxious as ever, but unfortunately Kurt couldn't worm his way out of socialising with her this time. His father had all but forced him to look after her during her stay, even though Maryssa was very much capable of showing herself around and making herself at home without even being asked to. Because this was Maryssa, and Maryssa did what Maryssa pleased.<p>

"I honestly don't understand how you can live in such a place, Master Hummel. Look!" Maryssa ran her finger along the surface of a hardwood bookcase and shoved it in his face, her skin as clean as before. "It's positively filthy!"

"Well, I've survived," Kurt gritted his teeth together and bore through.

"Goodness knows how. Mother makes sure that every room in our house is cleaned at least two times," She looked him straight in the eye seriously, "_daily_."

"Impressive," said Kurt with false fascination.

"Not impressive, dear Kurt. Essential!"

Kurt collapsed ungracefully into an armchair and watched as Maryssa linked her hands behind her back and travelled superiorly around the room, her long red plait bouncing against her back. Kurt yawned quietly and looked to the grandfather clock. _Only two hours before dinner,_ he thought. _Only two hours before she can impose her terrible nature on someone who isn't me_.

"So, tell me, Master Hummel," she said as she sat. "Has your father discussed any wedding plans with you?"

Kurt very nearly choked.

"Wedding plans? I beg your pardon, miss?"

"Well, now that you're older, and your father is getting much older, he must be considering a wife for you as to secure the Hummel family for another generation," She explained as if it were entirely obvious to any simpleton. "It is the thing to do."

"Well, I think we're fine for now," Kurt couldn't think of anything to say. He saw a surge of venom in Maryssa's eyes that he had only seen once or twice in her, but terrified him the same. There had always been something evil in her. Kurt just couldn't quite place it. Perhaps she was interested in Kurt. Ms Bellis had predicted such things, but Kurt had always brushed her words away with a laugh. Such a union with Maryssa Faye was the last thing he wanted. Quite literally.

"It's bound to happen one of these days," she continued.

"I know," Kurt replied.

Kurt knew and it worried him. It was just another thing he and Blaine would have to get through, he supposed. But how much could they possibly work around? There had to be a limit.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Hello there! This chapter is quite short, and basically just a filler, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! I should be able to update again next Saturday! WhiteRoseRed xx**

"Oh, come on, Blaine. You just have to come to the carol service! You must!" Kurt insisted for the hundredth time.

"Kurt, you know I can't. What would Sir Faye think if his carthorses were forced to spend the night in a dirty stable? Besides, Maryssa will no doubt poke her nose into mine and Peter's business, and I am really not in the mood for her to start telling me how to do my job again," Blaine replied, making Kurt groan in frustration. "Look, Kurt. You know full well that I would like nothing better than to join you, but if I even dare to leave, Peter will probably restrain me with a rope around my neck so I can't get away, and I really don't fancy that. Honestly, Kurt. He's been seriously cracking down on me lately."

"But, Blaine…"

"No buts! There's no way out of this, Kurt. Trust me, I've looked for one. Peter hates the Fayes' criticism just as much as I. He won't rest until this place is spotless," Blaine sighed.

Peter had ridden off earlier, as instructed by Burt, on Finn's horse, since Finn was visiting his relatives on the other side of Sheffield and his horse needed exercise, which left Kurt and Blaine alone in the stables with an unexpected period of privacy; one that they were eager to make the most of…or at least they would have if Blaine didn't have such a large list of things to do.

"I know. It would just be so much better if you could come, Blaine," Kurt told him.

Blaine smiled, "I'm sure it will be lovely nonetheless."

Blaine leaned forward slowly from where his back was resting against the cold wall. He slid his arm around Kurt's back and tugged him forward, muffling Kurt's giggles in a soft kiss that soon intensified as Blaine pulled the other boy closer, enclosing him in his arms so that they were chest to chest and Blaine was pressed up against the solid surface behind him. Kurt made a noise of appreciation and lifted a hand to Blaine's hair, changing the angle of kiss just the way Blaine liked him to. Blaine gasped when Kurt's lips left his and started trailing down the curve of his jaw that had gotten sharper and sharper every year. Unlike Kurt, Blaine didn't shave as thoroughly and as often, so a small amount of stubble remained. Kurt had told him once before that he liked the way it felt against his skin so Blaine had made a point of spending less time caring for his face.

Blaine sucked in a lungful of strikingly cold air as Kurt's lips attached themselves to his neck, Kurt's fingers still tight and forceful in his hair. Blaine splayed his fingers out along Kurt's left shoulder as if holding on for dear life. He knew that they shouldn't be doing what they were there, but as Kurt rocked closer still, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Blaine had never imagined there could be more to his and Kurt's intimacy than simple kissing (well…maybe he'd imagined a _tiny_ bit), but it turned out there were many things that Kurt could do with his lips, many places he could settle his hands, and a variety of noises that Blaine could pluck out of Kurt, that made him wonder why he found them so attractive, but he enjoyed drawing them from Kurt anytime he could anyway. He loved kissing Kurt more than anything, but he was eager to try more. He wanted to explore all of Kurt, and by the way Kurt was tracing his tongue greedily over the exposed skin of Blaine's neck, he received a small indication that Kurt felt much the same.

Blaine detached one of his arms from around Kurt and guided the other boy's chin up so that he could kiss him again. Kurt must have been expecting something different from that kiss, as when Blaine barely touched his lips to Kurt's, the body against him stilled, and Kurt's hand travelled down his face to stroke gently at his neck, pressing ever so lightly at the slightly sore marks he had only just left.

"We have no time," Blaine whispered against Kurt's lips.

And he was right. They never had time for it. Perhaps they would if they didn't live in a world where the circumstances of their relationship – Blaine had quickly discovered that them being two males was only the start of a long list of rules they were breaking by being together– they wouldn't have such difficultly finding time to just be together like they wanted to be.

Kurt nodded faintly, and pulled back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked bashfully up at Blaine, unaware of the surge of heat that cascaded in Blaine's stomach whenever Kurt pulled that face.

Blaine smoothed his thumb tenderly over Kurt's cheekbone one last time, and manoeuvred his way around the other boy, trying his best to ignore the almost unbearable urge to turn and press Kurt right up against the wall and continue their prior activity. He could hear Kurt's heavy breathing as he walked unhurriedly towards a grey horse that was staring at the two of them with a very bewildered expression. Blaine chuckled and patted the horse's side surely. From behind him, Kurt coughed and straightened up, pressing flat palms against the crinkles in his trousers and cursing.

"You look fine, Kurt. Stop that."

Kurt clearly wasn't satisfied but he let up anyway. He crossed over the six feet space between he and Blaine, and kissed Blaine quickly on the mouth after a small glance, a safety check.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Blaine," Kurt said quietly.

"I lo-…yes. I wish you a good time at the carol service, Kurt," Blaine replied quickly.

Kurt left briskly with a last glance of adoration, leaving Blaine alone in silence, his harsh breathing the only sound. He'd almost said it. _Oh God. _He'd almost told Kurt that he loved him. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of it. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't a clue where it had come from because he hadn't been thinking about the words leaving his mouth, but it felt natural and comfortable and he had barely been able to stop himself from saying it and pulling Kurt back to him.

He knew he did love Kurt. He had been aware of that for quite a while.

But telling a person that you love them is a lot different than knowing you do. Telling a person induces a reaction from them, one that is either good or bad. Blaine was still unsure of himself in that aspect. He knew that Kurt liked him. For him it had been a pretty fine line between his admiration and adoration of Kurt to slip from that of soft affection to, well, love.

Blaine understood that loving Kurt was something that was always going to happen. How could it not? Kurt was perfect. But Blaine wasn't. Not in his own eyes, anyway. Which presented a possible reality of Kurt not reciprocating. Blaine had heard of heartache and pain caused by lost love, severed love and rejected love, and he knew that is what he would experience if Kurt didn't feel the same. He wasn't ready to tell Kurt because of this, but the surges of passion he felt whenever he was around Kurt would push him to the brink of professing his love before he could even realise what he was about to do.

Snow began to fall outside. The flakes of white were large and surprisingly heavy upon Blaine's head. He returned into the stable quickly to fetch his cap and placed it on his head. The snow started falling more quickly, creating sheet of white upon the ground. The early evening sun was still peeking through the clouds, its rays of light causing the fallen snow to shine beautifully. Blaine smiled through his anxiety and worry, and stepped further into the small courtyard. He looked to the sky and felt the soft weight of snowflakes upon his skin. He closed his eyes, and let his mind clear itself. He would've been perfectly content to stand there for hours had it not been for the very familiar _clip-clop_ of a horse, and Peter's grumbles.

"What're you doin' just standing there?" Peter snaps as he rode past him. "Go do something useful, Blaine."

"Will do," Blaine replied absentmindedly. He glanced at the sky once more, before turning, a decision made and his heart lightened.

He would tell Kurt he loved him on Christmas Day.

**Reviews would be lovely! :) **


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Why hello. I am back! This chapter is set at Christmas which may or may not be a bit odd to read at the end of July, but I enjoyed writing it because, well, it's Christmas and Christmas is the best. I hope you enjoy! WhiteRoseRed xx**

Christmas had always been Kurt's favourite holiday, not that there were very many to choose from. He wasn't really that much of a fan of winter. In his opinion, the cold was very nearly always unpleasant and he didn't even like to _think _about the snow. He simply couldn't stand it. Or at least he couldn't when he was in the god forbidden stuff. He could at least admit that it did have a somewhat aesthetically beautiful quality to it, when one was inside with the warmth of the hearth to cancel out the chill of the outdoors.

Blaine, however, seemed to enjoy the time around Christmas primarily for the snow, and Kurt really didn't understand why. Many a time had Kurt watched in confusion and disbelief as Blaine ran outside of the stable compound as the first snow of the day started, happiness etched clearly upon his face. He had often been so elated by the large flakes of snow that Kurt had dubbed 'menacing drops of chilled hell' that he'd forgotten to put on gloves or a scarf and Kurt had needed to practically drag him back inside so that he didn't catch his death, as Blaine seemed to believe he was immortal or something.

No, Christmas' annual dose of snow and cold was not why Kurt enjoyed it so much. Mainly, it was the good feeling and joy that Christmas brought every year that prompted excitement to churn in Kurt's stomach every late November.

Normally, Kurt hated such dinners and dances as North Lees Hall's Christmas one, but something was different about this particular event. Perhaps it was that at Christmas everyone was content. Nobody seemed to want to impress, nobody gossiped, and even Maryssa was bearable (mostly). Jovial was the only way Kurt could describe it. The dinners were always amazing. Ms Gibbons, the household's head cook, always prepared for months, perfecting recipes in her spare time and putting together incredible menus, which never failed to astound Kurt. She had complete control over the fifteen cooks who worked under her, efficiently setting them to work. Kurt tried every year to pull some clues to what she was to create out of her, but she was as tight-lipped as she was humorous.

Her husband, Benjamin Gibbons, went about sorting out the invites. Typically, Burt Hummel invited all of his friends, all of the close family, and every single person from Hathersage to the evening dance and dinner. Kurt was so used to this tradition that he didn't even realise that it was completely unorthodox until he was older. It was not the done thing for the high-class member of a village to invite the poor to a dance, but Burt Hummel had never been normal, and Kurt hoped that he never would be.

There was something about hundreds of smiling and laughing people that just lightened one's heart. Burt and Carole would have their dance and then others would join in, swirling in a beautifully dysfunctional form to the trill of a violin, a song they all knew, both rich and poor. The Ball Room of the hall wouldn't be completely empty until late into the evening, when Burt would dismiss all servants and permit them to begin the great clean up on Boxing Day. Some of those who lived far away would stay the night in the many guest rooms, many arising late the next day due to copious amount of alcohol consumed.

Eventually, the stables would empty of horses, and the grand tables in the dining room would be shining from recent polishing and clear of the remnants of the messier eater's desserts. The excitement would die down and all would resume the normal routine. There was always a small glow in everyone after Christmas, however, which took a while to be fully extinguished by the tedium of everyday life, which made January's especially heavy load of studying and responsibilities a little less daunting for Kurt.

Kurt could feel something when he woke on Christmas morning, and it was very much similar to the emotion he had experienced for many years on the morn of December 25th, except brighter and more brilliant and so much bigger. It was as if the elation spread through his body like a stream, filling all the way out to his fingertips, leaving his skin tingling and his mind alive like it really shouldn't be that early in the morning. He could sense that this Christmas would be even more amazing than usual.

* * *

><p>Kurt smiled happily at a family as they exited their house. The mother locked the door behind her and handed the key to her husband who took it with a beam and placed it securely in his jacket pocket before extending his hand out to her. She gave him her hand and they began walking as the two young boys in the family also joined hands, on of them taking his mother's free palm to form a chain.<p>

Kurt headed a long parade, along with his father, Carole, Finn and Mr Gibbons the valet. The rest of the household walked behind them, their steps cheerful and voices exclaiming wildly something or other to each other. Kurt knew Blaine wasn't far behind and the thought made him even happier.

The residents of Hathersage and of the surrounding farms around the village, as well as the inhabitants of North Lees Hall, spilled into St Michael's church, all smiling and familiar. The vicar stood at the altar, stern as always but with a small, almost unnoticeable shine about him in the Christmas season. The pews quickly filled with people. Mothers shushed their children as Kurt found Blaine a few rows behind him, spinning quickly round to send him a smile before fixing his eyes to the front for undoubtedly the most boring part of Christmas.

* * *

><p>Four long mahogany tables placed parallel to each other made the space of the dining room appear to be much smaller than it actually was. Countless delicacies would line the tables for the arrival of the guests. Ten glass fixtures hanging from the tall ceiling glowed, hundreds of candles lighting the room beautifully. The smell of roasted meat and gravy was overwhelming as Kurt stepped into the room that had an attachment to the kitchen, Blaine close behind him. His father strolled in front of him and grinned brightly, nodding at his valet in approval. Ms Gibbons rushed into the room, apron pulled tight around her large waist, and meticulously straightened any cutlery that had been knocked about when other plates were being placed on the table. Burt waved her away with a chuckle and persuaded her to get changed into her finest. She bowed promptly and exited.<p>

"What do you think of it, son?" Burt Hummel asked, walking steadily between the two middle tables, his hands joined behind his back. He was wearing a very fine dining jacket in a deep green that Kurt had picked out himself. His trousers were perfectly pressed which was impressive for Burt.

"It's incredible as always. Ms Gibbons always does a wonderful job," Kurt replied, slightly distractedly due to the fact that Blaine was excitedly bouncing around on his feet, eyes darting fluently all across the room with astonishment clear on his face. Kurt could remember Blaine the year before, and he looked much the same, save for the joy of his body language, which seemed somewhat accentuated.

"She does, you're right," agreed Burt proudly. He clapped his hands together. "All right, then! Would you two go upstairs to the end of the hall and watch for arriving guests while I finish up sorting everything out down here?"

"Yes, father," Kurt replied, gesturing for Blaine to follow him.

Kurt strode gracefully from the room as Blaine gave a short bow and backed away as he had been told to from the first day of service, never turning his back to the master of the house. Kurt rolled his eyes as Blaine did this but didn't bother trying to convince him that it wasn't actually essential as Burt wouldn't notice anyway, nor would he care, but he supposed it was good practice for the stricter of Kurt's older relatives who definitely _would_ care.

"How many are coming this year?" Blaine asked as they ascended the main stairs.

"Oh gosh, I'm not entirely sure. I'm certain that at least three quarters of Hathersage will be attending which is around…four hundred, plus about another hundred of relatives and friends. So about five hundred, I suppose."

The number astonished Blaine, despite it having been around the same the year before. "That's rather a lot."

"Isn't it?"

It was around 4 o'clock when Blaine excitedly pointed out the first carriage to enter the estate. Kurt recognised the grand laced metal along the sides of the cart immediately. Sure enough, Maryssa's father, now a rich merchant in Sheffield, stepped carefully out, taking his daughter's hand and helping her out, too. Kurt made a noise of disgust and smacked Blaine when he started laughing, because Maryssa's presence anywhere within a hundred feet of him _really_ wasn't funny.

Kurt caught the attention of Verity, a handmaid, and told her to go inform her father of the first guest's arrival. She nodded primly, and went away.

Kurt and Blaine watched as people began to pour through the gates at the bottom of the hill. All but a few of the villagers had walked, but a steady line of carriages were circling the estate, dropping their guests off right at the main doors, and then travelling around to the other gate exit, some returning back to their riders' households and some residing for a while outside the stables. Kurt's eyes caught on the mother, father, and their two children whom he'd seen earlier that day. They were wearing their best clothes, which admittedly weren't very impressive, but Kurt knew not everyone was as privileged as him when it came to fashion…or, well, when it came to many things actually. The two young boys were laughing and excitable, and Kurt could see the fond annoyance on the mother's face.

The guests would be directed into the main hall, where almost every couch, armchair, and grandly handmaid wooden chair had been collected from the house and placed as neatly as possible. Dinner was to begin at five on the dot, and various servants were scurrying around the house frantically. Kurt met Ms Bellis' adrenalized gaze as she almost jogged up the stairs. Kurt waved and smiled at her as he tapped the back of his hand against Blaine's arm to pull his gaze away from the still steady river of guests. Blaine turned and acknowledged him with a grin.

"You ready to go down?" Kurt asked.

"Of course!" Blaine replied with haste, following Kurt quickly.

It had taken Kurt a little bit of persuasion, but he had convinced his father to allow Blaine to sit next to him at dinner. Kurt knew very well that some people would question it behind his back, but his happiness had prevented him from really caring at all. The year before, Blaine had sat a table away from Kurt along with Peter and the other househands, and Kurt was forced into rather uncomfortable conversation with a couple of uncles he hadn't previously even known existed.

"Wait!" Kurt exclaimed, half way down the stairs. "Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

"Yes, Master Hummel."

Kurt would have slapped him if he hadn't been at the top of the stair well already. He rushed to his bedroom, jogging to the vanity where a box still lay in a small pile of green wrapping paper. Blaine's present: a small pin broach of a rose and two beautiful cufflinks that Kurt had shown great interest to the last time they'd visited Sheffield's Thursday market. Kurt wasn't able to believe his eyes when he opened it, overwhelmed by Blaine's thoughtfulness, and had hugged him until he realised that he had a gift for Blaine too: a pair of trousers he'd been designing for months. He was sure that Blaine had sussed it out before he even opened the neatly wrapped package, due to the fact that Kurt had tentatively asked if he could measure Blaine a few weeks back.

He quickly popped out the cufflinks he was wearing and replaced them with the new ones, smiling as he did so, and pinned the broach to his jacket, adjusting it using the reflection in the mirror. When satisfied, he met up with Blaine again, patting him on the shoulder and soaking in the warm delight on his face when he spotted that Kurt was wearing his presents.

* * *

><p>The dining hall had never been as warm as it was when the final few people had made their way to their seats, five hundred bodies warming the room, as well as the escaped heat from a quantity of food that most of them rarely ever saw. Kurt and Blaine sat and watched as Burt stood between the heads of the middle two tables, Mr Gibbons beside him, tapping on a glass repeatedly with a spoon as was tradition for the dinner-dances. A wave of silence washed over the room as people looked up to their host and mothers authoritatively hushed their children, and husbands, in some cases.<p>

Not being a man of many words when there wasn't something to argue about or anything terribly important to say, Burt rushed out a cheerful, "Merry Christmas to all of you and I wish you all the best for the New Year!"

The room burst into applause as everyone raised their glasses, and Burt smiled even wider in appreciation.

"Now eat!" Burt exclaimed and the chatter and laughing began.

But sat down at the head of the table that Kurt and Blaine were sat at. Finn was sitting a little further down the table along with Quinn Fabray. The overly fond looks that they appeared to be exchanging made Kurt's stomach turn whenever he dared to glance their way, but one look at Blaine soon rectified that. Unfortunately, Maryssa had somehow made her way past the seating plan and had managed to end up sitting right across from Kurt and Blaine which was a big negative, but Kurt just tilted his chair slightly towards Blaine and faced him instead, pretending not to hear Maryssa when she coughed to get his attention.

"This is spectacular, Kurt!" Blaine said whilst stuffing chicken into his mouth.

"Swallow before you talk, Blaine, _honestly_," Kurt sighed but he couldn't help the fond smile that slowly formed on his face.

"Sorry," Blaine mumbled, wiping at his mouth with a hankerchief. "I'm just excited!"

"Are you? I couldn't tell," Kurt teased.

His eyes twitched in annoyance as Maryssa coughed loudly again from across the table. Kurt quickly eyed Blaine but all he did was laugh again and Kurt had to restrain himself from hitting Blaine hard under the table.

"Master Hummel."

Kurt internally groaned at the very recognisable sound of Maryssa's voice. There was no way he could ignore her after that. He turned his head slowly and gave her the least grim smile he could possibly muster.

"Yes, Maryssa?"

"Don't you think it's slightly inappropriate that you're sitting next to your…well, your servant," she said, picking at her nails. Blaine looked mildly amused. Kurt did not. He was pretty sure that if Blaine hadn't set a gentle hand on his thigh to calm him, he would have stood up and given Maryssa a very rude piece of his mind that certainly was not fit for a lady.

"No, not really," he deadpanned.

"Well, at my estate we-"

"At _my_ estate we don't do things like you do at _your_ estate," Kurt interrupted, barely containing his irritation.

"Of course," she replied, knowing well that it wasn't her place to continue arguing, but the vindictive twinkle in her eye told Kurt all he needed to know. "Whatever pleases you."

* * *

><p>Kurt had always loved the big Christmas dance. They were all shuffled into the Ball Room and the music began practically instantly. Burt took Carole's hand as per usual, smiling and in love to an almost sickening extent, and they danced (pretty badly on Burt's part) in the middle of the room happily. Eventually, others joined in and the traditional line dances began.<p>

Kurt and Blaine had watched from the edge of the room until Kurt was dragged in by one of his female cousins, an overly cheerful girl called Cassandra. Kurt danced with her willingly enough, catching Blaine's eye now and then, but he knew the only one he really wanted to dance with was Blaine, and that unfortunately definitely wasn't possible. Kurt and Cassandra finished, both slightly breathless, and Kurt left her with a kiss to her hand which made her giggle.

Eventually, a villager whom Kurt didn't know pulled Blaine into the dance. He smiled charmingly at her and took her hand when Kurt gave him a look of permission. Kurt watched intently as they moved down the line until they reached the end, swirling and joined by the arms, and then danced through the middle, the other dancers' arms outstretched lowly above them so that even Blaine at his small height had to duck occasionally. As the dance continued and the music began to reach its ending crescendo, Kurt felt an unmistakable swirl of guilt in his gut. _He_ should have been that girl. _He _should've gotten the chance to dance with Blaine like that and hold his hand and laugh and swirl.

This jealousy was pretty clear on his face when Blaine returned. His curls were all over the place and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Kurt would have been dying from overwhelming attraction had it not been for the girl attached to him.

"Blaine, I require your assistant," Kurt said formally, trying not to sneer at the villager.

Blaine obviously noticed the spark in Kurt's eyes, because he politely said goodbye to the girl and followed Kurt out immediately.

"What is it, Kurt?" Blaine asked as Kurt continued to walk, reaching the staircase and beginning to climb up. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs."

"Why?"

Kurt ignored him and strode ahead. He kept his bedroom door open for Blaine before all but slamming it shut and falling onto the bed. Blaine stood confused at the door as Kurt calmed himself down with deep breaths, the anger and envy dying down slightly but nowhere near fully.

"It's not fair," Kurt whined.

"What's not fair?" Blaine asked softly, sitting down next to him, although Kurt stood up immediately, pacing the room.

"That I don't… I don't get to dance with you, Blaine. I keep thinking…I keep trying to tell myself that we'll be okay and everything's fine but when we don't get to do the simplest things…" He broke off. "It makes me so angry, Blaine. You got to dance with her, but you don't get to dance with me. _I_ want to dance with you."

Blaine sat completely still for a moment, considering. He turned his eyes to Kurt's broken ones and stood, coming towards him silently.

"Then dance with me," he said softly.

Despite the softness of his voice, there was a deep intensity in Blaine's eyes that told him he felt exactly the same. It was comforting and Kurt wanted to fall deep into it, but instead he took Blaine's hand, as they took up the standard ballroom position that Kurt had learned many years ago. Blaine held him close and they began to rock, slow movement becoming faster and faster as Kurt finally entered into the realm of joy he had been craving all day, one that only Blaine could give him.

Blaine began to hum; not a song that had rung through the ball room's great hall, but something new and completely different, something that Kurt was pretty sure wasn't even a real song, but was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard.

It was when they finally finished that Blaine told Kurt he loved him, and the combination of happiness and pleasure and a thousand other amazing things made it easy for Kurt to speak the truth he would otherwise have found terrifying:

"I love you, too."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Hello again! I am, as always, very appreciative for all the feedback I get:) Thank you all! Quite a lot happens in this chapter. Thank you for reading! WhiteRoseRed xx**

"Why don't we have a picnic?" Kurt exclaimed enthusiastically one early spring evening. Blaine was perched on the end of Kurt's bed as Kurt went about sorting out a large pile of clothes that had just come back by cart from Sheffield after being specially cleaned.

"A picnic?" Blaine replied.

"Yes! You know, Blaine. Sandwiches, fruit, trifle…" Kurt waved his arms about as Blaine scoffed.

"I know what a picnic is, Kurt," Blaine said amusedly.

"Yes, of course," Kurt laughed nervously, smoothing his hand down a deep blue pair of trousers. "So what do you think? I mean, we'd of course have to travel quite far out to…well, to get some alone time, but that shouldn't be a problem. It _is_ your day off tomorrow and I only have classes in the evening, so we have a large space of time in which to do it, and my father will agree I'm sure, and there's always so much spare food in the kitchens, all I have to do is ask, and-"

Blaine cut Kurt's rambling off with a kiss, soft and reassuring and just what Kurt needed to tell him that Blaine would more than love to join him. Blaine pulled back and watched Kurt look dazedly up at him, a soft smile forming on his lips and a subtle blush fanning out on his cheeks.

"It would be a pleasure to accompany you, Master Hummel," Blaine accepted quietly.

Kurt beamed as Blaine quickly kissed him on the cheek, and went away to join Peter down the stables. Kurt pulled on a jumper and practically flew down the stairs to find his father and ask for permission, which he was sure he'd receive. Sure enough, Burt gave it to him as long as he returned before 3 pm. Kurt smiled cheerfully and proceeded to gather bits and bobs from the kitchen under Mrs. Gibbons' watchful eye. In the pantry Kurt found a basket that probably wasn't meant for picnics, but after brushing the cobwebs from it, he deemed it good enough.

He piled the food and drink high in the basket: sandwiches, apples, strawberries, lobster tails left over from dinner, a variety of cheeses that Kurt had carefully wrapped in newspaper, wild mushrooms picked from around the area, as well as a few portions of trifle, a bottle of elderflower cordial and a bottle of water. He placed the cutlery and glasses in a separate smaller basket and padded them with several cloths to prevent breakage. Pleased, he draped another cloth over the food basket and took it to the ice room to keep it cool over night.

Content with himself, he made his way to the small library on the first floor, yawning gently into the palm of his hand as he made his way down the silent corridor. He sat down at the nearest table, and cradled his head in his arms, feeling as if he could fall asleep right there and then. He probably would have had it not been for a sharp tap on his shoulder that shocked him straight out of his doze. He sat bolt upright, blabbering some words that were likely not to be in the Oxford Dictionary.

"Calm, Master Hummel." The voice from behind him was cold and held a very unwanted familiarity. It was Maryssa of course. It was always Maryssa. She had a nasty habit of visiting North Lees Hall all too often, never seeming to leave, like an illness that you just couldn't get rid of. Kurt hastily pulled himself together and put on a face of indifference as she sat down gracefully opposite him, twining her hands together

"I have a proposition for you, dear Kurt," she began, slightly nervously which was a rare emotion for her. She was usually so confident and brusk. "I was wondering if you'd like to go on a ride with me tomorrow afternoon."

Kurt sighed in relief. Her tone had prompted him to think straight away that she'd start going on about marriage again, and that was definitely not something Kurt wanted to discuss at that point...or ever. Besides, he had a valid excuse he could use to decline her offer this time.

"I'm very sorry, Maryssa," Kurt replied as sincerely as he possibly could, "but I'm afraid I'm engaged at that time."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, and lifted her chin up. "What is it you're doing then?"

"I'm having a picnic with…with a friend," Kurt told her carefully, watching as her eyes practically turned green. She raised her chin even further, studying him, before standing and breathing in sharply. Kurt half expected her to hiss it him, by the way her eyes were filling with a swirling mixture of anger and jealousy.

"Have a good time," She said, though it was clear that she wanted exactly the opposite of that. She ran her fingers along the shiny surface of the table, ignoring Kurt's 'goodnight' in a bid to exit quickly.

Kurt looked back just as the door was harshly pulled shut, a wave of Maryssa's red hair the last of her.

* * *

><p>Maryssa most certainly was not pleased with Kurt rejecting her offer. And because of this displeasure, she soon began to believe that perhaps Kurt really wasn't busy that day, but had lied to her. Her curiosity led her to wake early that morning. She milled about for a while, ate breakfast and dressed in the fine clothes she had brought with her from her home. She made herself comfortable in a small lounge off the main hallway so that she could hear anyone coming or leaving. She pretended to read, smiling emotionlessly at Carole every now and again as she worked at a large tapestry that was draped over her lap.<p>

Once 11:30 came about and the large Grandfather clock in the hallway struck its great chime throughout the whole household, Maryssa began to believe that her suspicions were correct about Kurt's deceit. She was furious and ready to go to him and give him a piece of her mind. At least she was until she heard a pair of loud, excitable footsteps down the main stairs, a cheerful whistle joining the loud clunks. Maryssa sat straighter and listened carefully. The whistling definitely sounded like Kurt's…

She politely bid Carole goodbye, and stood. Peering around the door, she saw Kurt enter the small coat room, grabbing a garment and quickly sliding it on. His boots clacked against the floor as he hastily began to leave the hall. He stopped suddenly, turning on his heel and headed towards Maryssa. She spun quickly back into the room, as so not to let him see her, and listened attentively to Kurt's movement. When she heard him walk back along the hall, past the lounge, she stuck her head back out the door. He had a basket in his hand, and by the way his shoulders were at a diagonal, it certainly wasn't light. Perhaps he is having a picnic, she thought, but she still doubted it. And anyway, who on earth could Kurt be going on a picnic with anyway? There were no other ladies apart from Carole and her at North Lees Hall. Maryssa watched as he left the building and gave him half a minute before following, curiosity sending her after him.

She watched from the top of the front stairs as he practically jogged down the path towards the gates and then turned towards the stables upon reaching the bottom of the gravel walkway. She followed in his steps, and waited at the gate patiently. She knew it would only be a few minutes before he passed by again on a horse and she could see whomever it was that he was going with. Perhaps he'd sent a letter to a suitor and asked her to meet him at the stables. Eventually Maryssa's ears caught the sound of the clip clop of not one, but two horse's shoes. She hid – probably not very well – behind a thick layer of foliage, despite knowing that Kurt wouldn't be able to catch sight of her where she was standing any way, and waited.

Kurt passed by, along with the stablehand that Maryssa recognized by the unruly dark curls on his head. _Oh, she __**must**__ be important if he needs to take his favourite servant with him_. Once they had passed, Maryssa fisted her hands and stomped through the gate, eyes locked on the stables as she walked furiously. She snapped at a bored Peter to get her horse ready and he obeyed her without question, quickly grabbing various things. He led the white horse out to the courtyard. Maryssa almost forgot to thank him as she mounted skillfully and took the reins into her hands.

She rode quickly at first, craning her neck to catch sight of the two boys, but when she finally did, she slowed. She couldn't let them see her otherwise she'd never find out who this woman was that Kurt was going to see. See and have a _picnic_ with. The thought made her feel queasy. How could Kurt have the nerve to refuse all of her offers to socialize and then ride away to meet some other woman? It outraged her.

They'd been travelling for miles when she noticed them slowing down. Maryssa dropped back so that she couldn't see them. They were about to stop. She halted her horse and waited. It was quiet down the lane and she'd never been down that far before. They'd been winding around the countryside for almost an hour. Maryssa couldn't imagine how Kurt had met with a lady who lived so far away. Who even was she? Maryssa had never heard talk of her. Did Kurt's father know? Maryssa didn't suspect he did, but perhaps he would like to know who his son is sneaking off to see…

Once she had sat quietly for a while, she urged her horse forward again, watching out for any sign of Kurt and the stablehand. She travelled around two hundred yards when she came across a much smaller path that went off to the west. She considered for a moment before deciding to head down there, knowing that she could always turn back if she wanted to. Indeed, she could see recent horseshoe prints in the wet mud. She smiled maliciously and rode onwards, keeping a good lookout for Kurt. The path meandered on for what must have been at least another mile, and she became more and more confused as to why Kurt would possibly be going down such a measly little ride-way. Surely no cart could ever come down here, she thought.

She heard loud laughing ahead that must have belonged to the stablehand because it definitely wasn't Kurt's, and she slowed down again, listening intently. More laughing followed, and this time it was Kurt's, bright and recognizable. Soon, it became silent again, save for the spring birds' joyful singing in the trees that provided a ceiling of foliage over the pathway. She continued on, slower this time and more observant. There ahead were two horses tethered to the inside of a rusted cow gate that looked like it hadn't been used for years. Maryssa decided to travel down a bit further and tie up her horse somewhere different before doubling back and finding where on earth Kurt and the other boy could have gone. She almost jogged back to the gate, and struggled with opening it, disgusted by the grime that stuck to her hands. The horses made uneasy noises and she had to quickly shush them before getting on her way.

She finally had a chance to register where she was. In the middle of _no where_, was where she was. All that could be seen for miles were endlessly rolling hills of green and orange and yellow, a few farms and other buildings speckled here and there. But there was definitely not anything within a mile of where she was standing. She couldn't understand why Kurt would stop here. Maybe the meeting was so controversial that Kurt had to ask her to come all the way out here to meet him…maybe. Maryssa shook her head confusedly and looked to her right and then to her left. She could see Kurt in the distance, the other boy (Blaine, was it? She couldn't quite remember, and she didn't really care) just behind him. She brushed a stray hair out of her face and followed them quickly, making sure to keep a distance and walking close to the hedgerows so that she could hide quickly in case either of them turned around.

Kurt and Blaine began to descend the hill slightly and slowly, talking animatedly from what she could gather. She was completely baffled as to their strange actions, but was only made more curious by them. They reached a level part of the hill that was surrounded by a luscious array of spring flowers. She could just make out Kurt pointing to a spot on the ground. Blaine seemed to agree with him as he put the blanket down neatly and took Kurt's hand to lower him down. Maryssa was about twenty meters above them, and if they were to look up she would easily be able to cover herself in a few trees that stood just behind her. She stood still and quietly, watching like a hawk, barely even blinking.

_Where is this girl then? Surely Kurt didn't decline my offer because he was having a picnic with his __**servant**__? Surely…_

Maryssa saw them start emptying the contents of the bigger basket, which must have been full with food, and drink as was customary on a picnic, of course. She couldn't quite hear what were saying, especially the stablehand as his voice was so low that she could only hear a slight rumbling. Kurt's laugh was distinctive enough and the noise seemed constant. Maryssa didn't know what to expect. She had no idea what on earth was happening. Who in God's name would go on a day out with a stablehand? That was completely unheard of! Maryssa would never be seen socializing in such a way with one of her handmaids. It was just…unacceptable.

After a quarter of an hour, Maryssa was almost completely sure that no one else was going to arrive and the sight before her eyes was that. Just a picnic between master and servant. Or at least she thought it was just that. The servant moved closer to Kurt and she squinted to see what he was doing. Kurt laughed once again and then Maryssa's stomach turned. The stablehand had kissed Kurt. _Kissed_ him. She was stunned, expecting Kurt to push him off straight away, but he didn't. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him closer still, kissing him back with passion and sureness. As if he'd done it a million times before. Something clicked in Maryssa's mind as she realized just why they had rode so many miles to a place so empty. Rage, jealousy and disgust filled all of her being as she turned away from them, wishing to see no more and get out of the filthy field straight away. Kurt was going to pay for what he'd done. There was nothing more certain in her mind as she rode furiously home, vindictiveness etched across her face.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**I am a terrible, horrible, disgusting updater. Please don't hurt me. I promise that I will try my best to get you the next chapter as soon as possible! Reviews would be absolutely lovely, and as always, I am very thankful for all the support so far**** WhiteRoseRed xx**

From early on in his childhood, Kurt had always been aware of the basic makeup of a village. Hathersage was much the same as many other small gatherings of houses in and around Derbyshire. Each small settlement only had a few streets, but the amount of people that could inhabit the small number of houses was astounding. Every village had a small chapel or church, varying in size but always there. A small post office had recently been added to Hathersage, of which the residents were very appreciative of, as they didn't have to travel further towards Sheffield to send their letters. A small village hall was situated in the middle of the village, and was home to the various Farmers' Specials Markets and other events throughout the year. As a country village, many fields surrounded Hathersage, each split and allocated to certain farmers. The women of the village often spent their free time in the small flower allotments on the outskirts of the village, and the schoolhouse was practically always open for children, even during the weekends.

Kurt, due to living so near to the village and spending a lot of time in Hathersage, could understand that. What he could never and probably would never be able to comprehend was the social workings of the place. No matter how much Kurt liked to tell himself that he was respected and unusually good at making conversation with the locals, he would never be one of them and so was not a part of their dynamic. Kurt was aware of how close the villagers were. They all called each other by their Christian names, the women regularly visited each other and had tea together whenever a window of time was granted to them, and the children who played on the streets rarely quarrelled. That wasn't quite what astounded Kurt most, however.

Whenever an important person had died, the news of that death would spread through that village, reaching every single person, within an hour. The villagers were so closely knit together that they naturally gossiped in the least malicious of ways. Kurt always though that such a quality was simply brilliant. Of course, his class did gossip and share stories too, but the way it was done around him was different. The news would be delivered perfectly, and the condescending and offensive attitudes of his relatives and "friends" never failed to show themselves. There was always something to criticise or scrutinize. Kurt had never had this experience with the people of Hathersage before. He always believed them to be perfectly civil and so much more open than the upper class neck of society he was forced to exchange words with on a regular basis.

Kurt was unaware to the danger that the wonderful quality he believed the villagers had would pose that evening, as he lay unaware and unbeknownst in Blaine's arms.

Goosebumps prickled on his arms as the surprisingly cold wind swirled around them, but on the inside he was warm and the mixture of love and ever-present disbelief prevented him from locating a proper reason for them ever to leave the field. Blaine had his eyes closed and was breathing softly against the back of his neck. The separated puffs of air were reassuring to him, and perhaps that was a strange thing to think and feel, but Kurt simply couldn't bring himself to decipher about what was acceptable and what wasn't, what was meant to be real and what could only ever be a whimsical fantasy. For a little while longer, it didn't matter. None of it mattered apart from him and Blaine.

The ride back was relaxed and quiet. Small, subdued words fell from their lips that told of nothing but were comforting and present.

Kurt was sleepy by the time they rode past the first few cottages of Hathersage and his attention span was small. Blaine was alert, however, and noticed the strange looks and the almost inaudible whispers. He stared confusedly at a woman who couldn't keep her eyes off of them, her eyebrows high on her forehead and her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her son stood behind her, one of his hands clutched to the dirty apron that hung down her body. Blaine couldn't understand it. He received similar looks from several others. Rachel was sat inside, but she was looking out the window, the curtain pulled back so that she could see the street. Blaine mouthed a word of question at her but she made no effort to reply, only looking back at him with slightly sad eyes.

The behaviour of the villagers was making Blaine anxious and as soon as they reached the other side of the village, he set the horses' pace quicker. He looked over to his lover who was only just awake, only so because of the steady jolt of the horse's body beneath him. It was clear that Kurt hadn't noticed a thing out of place, and Blaine decided it would be best not to worry him, so when they reached the stables he didn't mention it.

They parted with a secret kiss as the first signs of darkness made themselves known.

After his tiresome studies, Kurt went straight to bed. Ms Bellis rushed past him as he ascended the stairs, a pile of dirty clothing in her arms and a cheery smile on her face. Kurt returned the gesture, giddy with fatigue. He rid himself of his heavy day clothes and rummaged in his drawers for his favourite nightwear. The day had gone extremely well, in his opinion. Getting so much time alone with Blaine was a rare thing and he definitely treasured every moment he received. Although it bothered him that they had to travel so far out just to gain privacy and euthanize the risk of their controversial relationship becoming known, he was willing to do what was needed, as long as he had Blaine and was always to have him. After years of Blaine's company, he simply couldn't imagine life without him, and the love they shared, Kurt believed, was the most worthwhile aspect of his life.

Blaine went about his duties happily, almost in a constant daze. Peter commented that he looked like a slightly sleepy puppy, but Blaine barely heard him. He returned to his quarters at around 9 o' clock after a late supper of bread, butter, and tea. It was a surprisingly cold night, one that couldn't have been foreseen earlier on in the day, and Blaine was grateful for the few extra blankets that he had been given upon arrival at the hall. He opened the wardrobe slowly, the doors creaking squeakily, and grabbed an extra woollen blanket from the bottom. His eyes caught on the pile of his work shirts on one of the shelves, and what he knew lay behind it. He straightened up and removed the carefully folded clothes gently, placing them on the floor. A mismatch of items from his past life in Old Aberdeen were revealed, as well as the large quantity of letters to his family that he had never sent. A sickening weight made itself known in his stomach as he rifled slowly through the fragile parchment paper. His mind swam with the longing to see his mother again, but a fear also of what Old Aberdeen harboured: a set destiny and a lack of freedom, no people that could even begin to understand him save for his poor mother, and his father, the man who would torture him for his secret and force him into a marriage and a farming life that would fulfil none of his dreams. Blaine, despite how greatly he missed his mother, knew that he had left his home for a reason.

He came upon another letter, the beautiful handwriting so recognisable, the handsomely crafted words written in red ink, Kurt's favourite colour, Blaine remembered. He smiled as he read. Kurt had given it to him almost two years ago, and the formality of the writing was so different to the way he and Kurt comfortably chatted in the present. He placed the letters back, and reached for the small item behind them. It was a rose. It was _the _rose. The sight of it struck Blaine hard, but in a different way to the unsent letters. His mother had given the rose to him with a story alongside it; an old one of finding one's true love and giving one's self fully over to them. It made Blaine think, and it made Blaine realise, and it finally made him smile. _Perhaps I won't have to look after this flower for so much longer. Perhaps I now have someone to hold it. Perhaps…_

Blaine made a decision that night. The rose belonged to Kurt. He couldn't rid himself of the idea. He was going to pass the flower on, just as his mother had said he would.

And he did, but in the most terrible way that he never could have imagined.

* * *

><p>Kurt hadn't made it four houses into Hathersage when a driven Rachel Berry grabbed his arm tightly and dragged him quickly to her house, forcing him through into the living room and shutting the door, ignoring Kurt's demands for an explanation. She looked frantic and dishevelled as she pinned her bun back into place. Her hands flew to her hips and she caught the eyes of a woman sitting in a plush armchair, Myrtle, her maid who had come with her from Wales. The grey-haired woman stood, nodded curtly to Rachel and left the room silently.<p>

"What in God's name do you think you're doing in Hathersage, Kurt? Are you insane?" She demanded manically to a very confused Kurt who was leaning against the wall, eyes wide and alarmed.

"Excuse me?" Kurt exclaimed, breathing heavily into the room as Rachel stared unbrokenly at him.

"You're insane," She turned on the spot staring at the wall adjacent to Kurt, before spinning back sharply. "You're absolutely insane, Master Hummel."

"Insane? What on earth are you referring to, Rachel?"

"Oh goodness," she smacked her hand to her mouth and turned her back to Kurt, as if she couldn't bear for him to see her expression.

Kurt was beginning to get angry and was tempted to rush up to her and physically turn her around and insist on an answer when a small timid voice left his friend's lips. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Kurt asked quietly, curiosity and worry clear in his voice.

Rachel turned her sad eyes to him and said one name that immediately sent a shock of nausea upon him, anxiety and worry and terrifying unease.

"Maryssa."

"She…"

"She knows, Kurt," Rachel told him brokenly.

"Knows…" Kurt could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He placed his palms flat against the wall to steady himself, what Rachel was trying say settling in his mind. He felt sick.

"Everyone here knows," she admitted, tears filling her eyes. She rushed to him, took his hands and tried desperately to look into his vacant eyes. "Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

Kurt shook his head. He closed his eyes to block out her face but he couldn't block out the rest of it. How could Maryssa have known? How could she have told everyone in such a way? He didn't want to think about what people were thinking, what they were saying to each other, what would happen when the truth reached North Lees Hall…

"Kurt?" Rachel was shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes and focused on her.

"What do you think, Rachel? What do you think about this? What's to happen now?" Kurt asked tearfully. "I suppose I deserve it, don't I? How wrong I am. How wrong I am!"

"No!" Rachel said at once. "You're the rightest thing in the world."

"You and I both know that can never be true," Kurt said quietly, tears falling slowly, lingering on his cheeks. Rachel waited silently, still close to him. "Why…why do you…you're sad for me. Why are crying?"

"Kurt…"

"You knew before. Blaine and I. You knew, didn't you? How did you know? My god, was I that obvious?" Kurt rambled.

"I knew," she began. "But that's not important right now, Kurt. You're in danger now. Your family is in danger, and I know that certainly was never what you intended to happen, but it's reality."

"In danger?" Kurt's eyes widened.

"Oh, you must know, Kurt. It will surely reach your estate, and I don't know what your father and your stepmother will think of it, whether they'll believe it or…or accept it as a rumour, but if the rest of your extended family catch wind of it, there could be problems for you and your father, and dear Finn and his mother. It's not…it's not a _thing_, Kurt. You and Blaine aren't considered to be acceptable or normal, as I'm sure you're well aware."

Kurt sobbed. "And what of Blaine?"

Rachel bit her lip. "He'll surely be sent away…that is, if you tell your father that it's the truth."

"What are you saying?"

"You don't have to accept this, Kurt. You can tell him that Maryssa made it up out of vengeance, out of jealousy. You can deny it all and you and Blaine will be safe. It will all blow over, eventually," she suggested eagerly, seeming truly intent on protecting Kurt.

"You're…you're right," Kurt sniffled, standing taller than before and truly considering. "I don't want to lose him, Rachel. And I don't want their anger and disgust upon either of us, even if we do deserve it."

"You don't deserve it," Rachel told him sincerely, smiling softly.

"Do you really believe that? The rest of the world would beg to differ."

"Well the rest of the world aren't Rachel Berry, now, are they? I like to think I have more sophisticated opinion on life," she said slightly humorously.

"Why do you believe it?"

"I believe it because you love him. I can see it, Kurt. Whenever you talk about him it's as if you've seen the most magical thing known to man and you can't stop describing it, or as if he's your passion. That's how I knew," she took Kurt's hand again and sat him down on the two-seater couch, perching next to him gracefully.

"For how long?" Kurt asked.

"A while."

They sat in silence for a moment, Kurt still reeling in shock but in agreement with Rachel that the best thing he could do for both he and Blaine would be to deny all of the gossip that the villagers would surely pass onto the hall's servants and workers, and brand them as vicious and ludicrous lies. Kurt told himself that everything would be all right and that calm would be restored, in order to dull the throbbing anxiety that pulsed through his body. As his mind cleared, his questions poured in.

"How did she find out?"

"She followed you."

"Who did she tell first?"

"I don't know," Rachel shrugged.

"Why would she do something like that?" Kurt's head fell to his hands, his hate for Maryssa never having been greater.

"Because she's a contemptible bitch," Rachel spat out.

"Rachel!" Kurt smiled for the first time since he'd set foot in Hathersage and received curious stares from the usually friendly villagers.

"You know it's true," she nudged him on the arm gently, smiling cautiously.

"I know."

Silence echoed around the room as Rachel sealed her mouth and let her eyes fall closed. Kurt wrung his hands together and let himself be enveloped by the calm of it, momentarily forgetting it all, the chaotic revelation and the fear that struck right where it was most noticeable.

There was a very small grandfather clock that stood against the wall, right next to a window that looked out towards the main village road. It was quite fantastic in Kurt's opinion, beautifully carved. The wood that surrounded the clock face was decorated in small, delicate-looking birds. Their mouths were open as if they were singing their morning songs, and their wings were stretched out. Vines twisted between the small birds, each stagnantly flying in a different direction. It was as if the _tick tock _of the clock wasn't even there, as Kurt's blurred and his mind settled on another grand item, a milk jug, that lay on Rachel's small living room table.

"You know you have to tell, Blaine," Rachel told him slightly weakly, ending her statement with a dry cough. The chime of the clock shoved Kurt back into reality, and he stared at Rachel, not meaning his eyes to show as much alarm as they did.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, yes. Of course I will, Rachel," Kurt replied, trying to lower the levels of anxiety within him.

"Don't frighten him, Kurt," she said softly. "Everything will be alright. If you have any problems, either of you, know that you're welcome here. If things…god forbid, if they do go wrong, I will help you. I know how…how unfairly destructive such a matter can be to someone's life."

"How do you-"

Rachel shushed him bossily, rose and strode over to the window, pulling the curtain back and peering outside. She snapped her fingers and Kurt followed suit.

"It's quiet outside. Most people will have gone to work now, Kurt. It'd be a good idea to go."

It might have been a suggestion had it not been for the urgency in her voice.

"If word of you and dear Blaine has already reached your estate, set the rumours straight right away, understand? I know it's a horrible thing to have to do, but it's not worth it, Kurt."

She walked him to the door, and with a kiss to his cheek, shooed him away hastily. Kurt Hummel managed to retreat from the small village with only a few busy mothers watching him from the corners of their eyes. Now that Kurt understood their disapproval, their expressions began to hurt him. He had never felt so rejected in his life, and the fear of what his father might say to him if he didn't believe his lies made him feel queasy, and drove him home with a quick step and a sudden determination to put things right.

If not for him, then for Blaine.

* * *

><p>"Kurt."<p>

It was his father's gruff voice, Kurt knew that instantly. He froze and stopped where he was, half way down the stairs.

When he'd returned to North Lees Hall, there wasn't a soul around, so he decided to head straight to his bedroom and calm himself down. What really happened, however, was a long tortuous couple of hours of anxiety and waiting impatiently for his father to return home from wherever he had gone. Kurt didn't want to approach Blaine about what had conspired until he had fixed it and made it safe. Rachel was right. There was no use in frightening Blaine and making things worse. Blaine didn't deserve that, of all people, especially since he had done absolutely nothing but cause Kurt to fall in love with him, something that Kurt would never take back.

As soon as he heard the familiar growing sounds of a horses shoes against the gravel of the path that led up to the main entrance from the gate, he shot to the window, securing the knowledge that it was indeed his father. He waited again for his father to enter the house, and then wondered fearfully if he would march straight to Kurt's room and demand an explanation. Kurt was eternally grateful that Maryssa (_The bitch_, Kurt finally allowed himself to think) had been picked up the night before by one of her father's many carriages, but the thought of her ever returning to his home made him want to throw up.

Thinking about what to say to his father had escaped him, and he ended up pacing nervously up and down his room, running his fingers through his hair until he messed it up, and then going to his vanity to fix the damage, then repeating, over and over and over again. When he finally plucked up the courage to make his way downstairs, white noise was blasting inside his head and his stomach was in a tight knot that he simply couldn't wait to loosen. He heard his father before he saw him, and a wave of nausea rushed through him.

"Father," he replied, trying to level his voice.

"We need to talk, son. Come," he turned his back to Kurt and entered the sitting room.

Kurt trembled and silently descended the last few steps, breathing heavily. He stopped before the door and braced himself, trying to flatten the fear that was racing through him faster than the great express trains. He saw his father sitting as he usually did when only Kurt or Finn were around; legs spread out and slightly slouched, the sort of posture that a Nanny would slap your hand for. This action reassured Kurt. Perhaps everything would be all right from the start. Kurt muttered a small greeting and shut the door upon his father's quiet order.

He stood awkwardly until Burt grumbled at him and told him to sit down next to him on the couch.

"What is it you'd like to discuss, Father?" Kurt asked almost mutely.

Burt sat up a little straighter, looking at his son with those eyes that Kurt hated, the sad ones that reminded him so strongly of his mother's death and months of confusion and emotional turmoil. "Ms. Bellis told me something she heard today," he began.

"What might that be?"

"It seems our Maryssa has been spreading a few rumours concerning you about Hathersage. Concerning you and Blaine, more specifically," his father cleared his throat loudly. "Ones about you and Blaine being…together."

"Pardon?" Kurt replied, attempting to lace innocence into his tone, but sure that his pure terror was the only thing that was showing at that moment.

"Maryssa has claimed that she followed you and Blaine out into the country yesterday, and that she saw you acting…intimately…towards each other," Burt's voice was strained as he said the words, but the sadness remained in his eyes. Kurt was confused. Why on earth would the hearing of those rumours pull such a strange reaction from his father?

"What?" Kurt immediately protested. "That is absolute nonsense! How could she lie in that way? You can't believe what she says, father. There is nothing more untrue than that…I don't-"

"Kurt."

His father had placed a hand on his knee, stopping Kurt from spilling out any more words. Kurt began to shake, his ability to act convincingly perishing as his body trembled.

"You don't need to explain yourself," Burt said reassuringly.

"You mean you never believed what Maryssa said?" Kurt whispered.

"No, you misunderstand," Burt replied, turning further towards his son, sighing gently. "I meant that I know."

"Know…" Kurt began to panic, considering whether bolting away, jumping on a horse and riding to Land's End would be a good idea or not.

"Kurt, shh," his father insisted gently. _Gently_. The tone again reminded him of darker days, of crying and loneliness and a father who just didn't know what to do. "It's all right. Everything is all right."

"You…you believe it then," Kurt asked, tears in his eyes.

"I know that was she says is true, Kurt, and I'm not saying that it was acceptable to tell everyone like she did, son, and now I…I've got to make a decision, Kurt," he said, hand firmer on Kurt's knee.

"How do you know it's true, father?" Kurt had given up on all attempts to plead his case, knowing that he would never convince his father.

"You know I'm not an academic or anything, Kurt, but I know what it looks like to be in love. I can't say…I refuse to say that what you and Blaine are is wrong. This is very…very difficult."

"Difficult?"

"I need to do what's best for you, Kurt. I need to protect you. I must. I love you, Kurt, and I know you love him but I can't have you risking your stature and your safety for him. I realise how unfair this must seem, and god, son, don't you realise that I don't want this?"

"Father…"

"This household will deny all of Maryssa's claims. I will make sure her father knows straight away that what she has said is untrue. He respects me. There might be talk for a while, but everything will return to normal. But I need to keep you safe," Burt looked at his son, his eyes full of regret. "Blaine needs to leave. I will be dismissing him from his role as stablehand immediately, and he shall have three days to leave. I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt's stomach dropped sickeningly, his mind struggling to process the devastating information that had just been delivered to him. He shook his head numbly and stood shakily.

"No."

"Kurt, this isn't a discussion. I need you to be out of harm's way. If Blaine were to stay, there would be a greater risk of you two being caught again. He must go, for his safety, too."

"And what of me, father? What of how this arrangement will affect me? And Blaine! Where is he to go?" Kurt protested loudly, angrily, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I will provide him with money and supplies, Kurt. He's a smart boy. He'll make his way just fine," Burt tried to bargain, distraught to see his son in such a state. "And the pain won't last forever, Kurt."

"I'm never going to be normal!" Kurt yelled brokenly. "Perhaps I would find happiness again, but what about the next one? Will you send him away? I don't want to lose him, father. Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt couldn't comprehend how badly the day had gone, how things had gone from bad to absolutely devastating. He simply couldn't lose Blaine. He refused to accept it, and refused to know that he would have to. He flew from the room, sobbing uncontrollably as he pulled on a coat and fled from the hall, heading straight to the only person who could make it better; the one he was to lose.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**This is a pretty short one, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! I would really, really appreciate any comments and criticism you may have. Adios! WhiteRoseRedxx**

Kurt found Blaine at the stables, seemingly unbeknownst and humming softly, a large brush clutched in his hand and a small spring in his step that he often had whilst working. Kurt considered his course of action for a small moment, before brushing at his cheeks quickly. He wasn't thinking quite so clearly, and perhaps that's enough to explain why his course of action was, in fact, rather flawed. It's possible that rushing up to Blaine and flinging his arms around him whilst sobbing uncontrollably wasn't the best idea, especially since he initially wished to calmly deal with the situation.

Blaine had had a normal day. The weather had been reasonable enough, and his work hadn't been particularly tiring. Even the horses had been strangely cooperative for once. Kurt rushing up to him with tears streaming down his cheeks, and such crazed sadness in his eyes, was the very last thing he expected. He let out a small grunt as Kurt slammed into him in the least violent of ways, the other boy wrapping his arms around Blaine's body tightly.

"Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong? Sweetheart?" Blaine lifted his hand up to his lover's hair, trying his best to comfort him. Minutes past of Blaine quietly rocking Kurt in his arms, a sick feeling in his stomach, as he glanced wearily around to access whether or not they were alone. Kurt's tears created a wet patch on the thin cloth of his work shirt, but he took no notice of that. Kurt's inability to respond to his simple question was a much more important matter; one that worried him immensely.

"Kurt, please," Blaine pleaded, trying to unravel Kurt's arms from around his torso. He took the other boy's hands in his and held them tightly as he pulled him into the secluded darkness of the nearest wooden stable building.

Blaine briefly left Kurt, stroking his face reassuringly before moving to the far side of the damp building. He retrieved his work stool and brushed the dirt and dust off of it, his hand working in small, deft movements. He set it down a few feet in front of Kurt, who was sniffing loudly, and then took him by the arm and ushered him to sit down. Kurt did so and Blaine immediately lowered himself to his height, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands again. Kurt sniffed once more, and at the immanent threat of more tears, Blaine lifted his hands to Kurt's face and cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking softly.

"Kurt, please. I'm worried. You must tell me what is making you feel this way," Blaine spoke softly, his voice devoid almost of all power, although Kurt heard him loud and clear, his bright eyes laden deeply with remorse.

"Maryssa…my father, he says…oh Blaine, he says you must go," Kurt very nearly choked on the words as a few more tears leaked from his eyes.

Blaine's gut fell further as his eyebrows furrowed. "Go? Why must I go? What has happened?"

The question appeared to pain Kurt. He flinched and tried to pull his face away from Blaine's hands, but Blaine held him still and shushed him. Blaine always knew how to calm him.

"Yesterday she – Maryssa followed us. Rachel told me. She told me that Maryssa saw us and she…she told everyone. Hathersage is alive with it, Blaine," Kurt sucked in air as Blaine tried to register what he had just been told, stomach churning sickeningly. "My father knows about it. God knows that news travels fast. Oh, how it travels."

"What did you say to him?" Blaine whispered, eager not to scare Kurt away.

"I could not lie to him."

The realisation slammed right into Blaine, shocking him right through to his bones. He was shaken and terrified and oh so worried. It was a feeling like no other; some kind of pure uncertainty that was impossible to get rid of without time shaping and filling it for you.

"He knows that it is indeed true," Kurt elaborated. "It was a mistake. It was a huge mistake."

"Us?"

"No!" Kurt grabbed Blaine's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Of course not us. Never us, Blaine."

"Then…then what?"

"I made such a terrible mistake, Blaine. Telling my father…confirming the rumour. He doesn't want you here anymore. He's to make orders for you to leave, and I can't stop him," Kurt said, despair causing a tremble and weak tone in his words. Blaine was sure his heart was liable to beat right out his chest by that point. "I'm so sorry, Blaine."

Blaine said nothing for a while, his mind alive with Kurt's words in the worst possible away. He was confused and he felt stupid and helpless and so nauseated. He couldn't think of a way out. It was too late and he knew it very well. All that he had been trying to avoid had found its way back into his life again, crashing down and destroying the greatly fantastic wall that he had built around himself and Kurt. It was so fantastic that it could only ever exist in the greatest of dreams. It was that dream that he had foolishly allowed to consume him and numb his reception of danger. It would be a lie to say that Blaine hadn't been cautious, but he knew that what he'd done hadn't been enough. He was aware deep down that he should have stopped what had started at the first kiss straight away. There was a reason that they had been forced to hide what they had, and Blaine had forgotten it at some points and so endangered the one that he loved most. He had made the mistake with Sam, but this was different. _Kurt_ was different and special and all that Blaine had ever wanted. It was this realisation that led to a decision on Blaine's part, one that hurt him more than he could ever have imagined.

"Please don't blame yourself, Kurt," Blaine told him, leaning forward so that his forehead was pressed against Kurt's, and he could feel Kurt's laboured breath against his face.

"How can I not?" Kurt cried weakly.

"You mustn't. You must never, all right?"

"What are we to do?" Kurt's eyes still shone strikingly.

"I need to think. I need to find a way, and I will. I promise, Kurt," Blaine knew he was lying and it hurt, but he couldn't face the truth at that point. He wanted to be irresponsible and free as if he were normal, but he knew it impossible also. For now though, all he wanted was a smile from the one he loved most. "Go back to the house and don't be sad. Everything will be fine."

Blaine could see the disbelief that flickered in Kurt's eyes. "You think it will?"

"I know it will, Kurt," The words stung him as he fought back the tears he knew were sure to come. "I just need time to think of a way to make this better."

"I'm so sorry, Blaine."

"Don't, Kurt. I told you that there's nothing at all to be sorry for. All will work out just fine."

Kurt nodded softly, sniffing one more time.

"Go back, have dinner and sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Promise you'll come?"

"I promise," Kurt said.

Blaine forced a smile. "I love you."

Kurt stood again, pulling Blaine up too, and fell into his arms, sealing them together perfectly. Blaine didn't believe anyone would ever fit as well with him as Kurt did. "I love you too."

The tears fell as soon as Kurt left, Blaine nearly falling to the floor with it all. He had lied to Kurt, and now he was forced to face the fact that things weren't to be all right as he had just preached to his lover. Things definitely weren't going to be all right. There was nothing else that Blaine could do. He only had one choice.

He had to leave.

Blaine couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard he tried. Every time that he thought he had finally accepted what he had to do, he would get this ridiculous idea in his head that there as a way to erase the past and make everything perfect again. The rose lay on his bedside table, the dull scent light in the air but still stark and recognisable. Blaine couldn't decide whether the redolent scent was disgusting or pleasant. His whole body was trapped in tortuous indecisiveness.

His dreams were uncomfortable and full of dark things that he couldn't remember in the morning. He was tired and a deep pain had permanently settled in his heart. He packed all of his belongings into the same ragged bag that he had brought them to North Lees Hall in. Tears prickled in his eyes the whole time, but he had finally, fully, conclusively made an agreement with himself that it was the best thing to do in order to keep Kurt safe. Kurt would always come first. Always.

He sat on his bed for a while, urging his body to move but making no leeway. Ms Bellis came to wake him like she did every morning, and upon seeing him, didn't say a word, but looked at him with sad, strangely knowing eyes. Blaine wondered if she knew. He was aware that some did. When he had returned to the hall the night before, a couple of handmaids had stared at him, their eyes holding silent judgement.

He considered taking the easy way out. He could write Kurt a note. That way he wouldn't have to face him and tell him he'd lied. He didn't think he would be able to stand the way Kurt would look at him.

But he couldn't do that. Blaine would never do that. He knew it would hurt more than anything had ever hurt before, but as he climbed the servant quarter's stairs for the last time, the rose of Aberdeen held carefully in his hand, he knew also that it was the right thing to do.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**This chapter has taken me quite a while to write, and I really hope you enjoy it (well...). Thank you for all the support so far:) WhiteRoseRed xx**

The restlessness that had engulfed Blaine early that morning was like an incurable illness, an illness that you were sure wasn't to leave any time soon, but was instead destined to become worse and worse until you simply couldn't stand it one bit longer. He met Peter with a gruff, unpleasant 'hello', but the other stablehand was too preoccupied with his duties to notice Blaine's grief-stricken face.

His hand felt weak and limp around the brush as he swept the courtyard half-heartedly. His mind refused to settle on anything that didn't relate to the sweet boy, whose company and presence he would soon receive no more of. It seemed horribly, devastatingly unfair, and the small creeping sense of guilt that slunk its way around those other feelings was something that Blaine could not rid himself off. He couldn't help feeling that the pain was self-inflicted, for surely he did not absolutely _have_ to do what he had planned. But then Kurt's face wandered amongst the thoughts and Blaine knew he had to do it. He couldn't stand the thought that it was he that had endangered Kurt. Blaine knew that Kurt wasn't so bothered about his reputation, but surely he knew the implications of such an accusation staying with him for all the relatives and the rich friends to see? Blaine remaining at North Lees Hall would do nothing but cause more trouble for Kurt. It was essential that he left.

Still, self-loathing crackled and popped in distressing bursts in his head the whole morning whilst he worked. He was waiting for Kurt. He had chucked his bag behind a tree a short while down the road that headed west, away from Sheffield, as not to face any unwanted questions from Peter, although he doubted then that the other boy would even notice. He wasn't entirely sure of when Kurt would be arriving. It was a weekday, which meant that Kurt's music tutor was due to arrive at 11. Kurt would have to come before then. Blaine could not work out whether he wanted Kurt to arrive sooner or later. As much as he wanted to get the terrible thing over with, he also wished he could somehow receive more time.

Or maybe not. Perhaps all Blaine wanted to do was to stop time, grab Kurt's hand and take him away. They could go anywhere they pleased and no one would question it, no one would see, no one would know. Blaine knew that Kurt had barely left the Sheffield area, barely left the county. Well, Blaine could take him to all the counties, across the English Chanel. He could take him to Paris or to Amsterdam or perhaps to Rome. Blaine had always wanted to visit Italy.

The numbing fantasy was gone before he could even realise it was indeed a dream. It was a certainly beautiful, but it most definitely was not real. Reality would always be harsher. It was brutal; Blaine of all people should know that. But what he believed was the cruellest part of it all, was how he received the chance to be happy anyway, when it was always destined to be ripped away from him.

* * *

><p>"Master Hummel?"<p>

Kurt's arms were crossed against his chest. He had been especially cold that morning, so he'd wandered down to the sitting room where he knew a fire would be burning bright in the hearth. He was sitting with his legs crossed, an open book in his hands. He wasn't really reading, though. It was a façade he had put on so that his father, who was sitting silently across from him, would not attempt to converse with him. He wasn't sure he could bear it. He had promised to come down to meet Blaine at the stables, and was eager to hear how Blaine believed they could amend the grave situation, but this would require sneaking out without his father noticing. He had certainly not been pleased with Kurt running down to the stables the day before. Burt Hummel did not believe in the cane, but the look he had given Kurt when he'd finally returned hurt more than twenty hits.

"Master Hummel?"

Kurt looked up from the pages that were no less a mystery to him than they had been half an hour before, to meet Ms Bellis' eyes. She briefly set her gaze upon his father and spoke directly to him, "Sir, I wish to speak briefly to Kurt for a moment, if you do not mind too much."

His father coughed gruffly and sat up a little straighter. "Of course not. Go on, Kurt."

Curious at to what she might want, Kurt carefully set down the book and rose from the chair, nodding politely at his father as he left the room.

"Accompany me to the Kitchens?"

Kurt followed her, copying her brisk pace. She closed the door behind them once they were both inside. The kitchen was quiet, due to the fact that it would be another half an hour before preparations for luncheon would be made.

"I've heard," she whispered. Kurt's heart fell once again. He had expected Ms Bellis to find out about the rumour one way or another. Still, he could not bear to receive any more judgement or another pair of disgusted eyes. It was to his utter bewilderment that he did not get one small sense of that from the one woman who had always been there for him. Instead, sympathy swam in her eyes.

"What is it that you have heard about?" Kurt asked, although he knew there was only one thing she could be referring to.

"I think you know, Kurt," she said softly. "I'm very sorry it has come to this."

"You are?"

"I do not believe it fair for you or for Blaine. This is…it is truthfully not something I have ever encountered before, my dear, but I cannot possibly accuse you or your Blaine of anything terrible or sinful, because I cannot see it. If I looked into it for a thousand years, I don't think I could."

There was sincerity in her voice that reassured Kurt.

"Oh, Ms Bellis," Kurt cried, tears filling his eyes. Ms Bellis stretched out her arms for him and he fell into them. He knew that she understood, and it made him feel much better not to be hated by yet another person. Her arms were strong and secure around him, and longing for his mother that suddenly panged in his heart hurt a little, but her warmth and her infinite kindness washed it away.

"I know it's horrible, Kurt," she said carefully.

"There must be a way…Blaine, he said…"

She pulled away for a moment, hands on his shoulders, thumbs stroking delicately.

"Blaine said what, Kurt?" She asked him.

"It's not…he didn't say a thing. Not one thing," Kurt told her, wishing not to dig a hole for himself that he would not be able to pull himself out of. Despite how much he respected and trusted Ms Bellis, he could not risk letting Blaine's possible escape plan be known to anyone.

Ms Bellis seemed to brush this off surprisingly easily, although Kurt could see the suspicion that wavered in her eyes. Kurt was incredibly grateful that she decided not to question him more on that particular issue, but instead sat him down at the long wooden table.

"How is he taking it?" she asked delicately.

Kurt bit his lip and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Not well," he stated simply. He let his finger trace along one of the many deep cut gashes in the tables surface from cutting various foodstuffs. His eyes were trained on his knees as he tried to reign in the tears that were threatening to make themselves known again.

"It is a terrible predicament to be in, I am sure. I wish there…I just wish it didn't have to be like this for you, Kurt."

"Me too," he replied as hope swelled weakly in his heart.

It was weaker than before. He finally realised it. What possibly could Blaine do to stop what his father had ordered? They were to be separated. There was no way out of it, no practical alternative in which both of them could remain safe. And yet he yearned for a way, hoped beyond hope that Blaine would find something that would save the best thing that had ever happened to him. He knew he was young and he knew that young romances never seemed to last, but he simply could not bear to lose Blaine. For Blaine was more than just his love. Blaine had become his foundation and support, his main company and the one he went to when he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he could not contain himself. Kurt saw Blaine in a way that he saw no other. He was perfect.

At 10 o'clock Kurt pulled on his coat and left the main entrance. He was overjoyed to discover that his father was to meet an old friend in Sheffield centre, and had left just before. This meant that Kurt did not need to make up an excuse. Perhaps he would receive a few disapproving glances but by that point he could not care less. The only person he would have liked to see look at him that way was Maryssa, primarily so that he could walk up to her and punch her in the face, but luckily for her nose, she was not present at North Lees Hall at that time.

Kurt stood and looked out onto the estate for a moment. Sometimes he forgot how vast it was, and how separated and alone. He hated it in that sense. Before Blaine, he had had felt so lonely. The feeling had been all around him. He had no one to talk to, not even Finn. Kurt hadn't had any chance to mix with any other children around his age, due to the fact he was strictly tutored at home. It was not the done thing for him to learn with the other children in Hathersage, and his father had been very reluctant to send him away to a country school with other children of his status, especially after his mother's death. Kurt could understand it, but he always resented that fact.

But Blaine. Blaine's arrival had been entirely unexpected on his part. He was under the impression that another Peter-esque character would be hired. He most certainly did not expect for him to ever enjoy his riding lessons, but with Blaine he did. He enjoyed them because of the other boy. He was so different to anyone that Kurt had ever met before, and he became the greatest addition to his life that he had ever been given. If Kurt believed in God, perhaps he would call Blaine a blessing.

He walked slowly down the path to the gates. His mind was alive with a thousand different things. Trepidation ran in his veins, and he couldn't help the sickness that rose in his stomach. But through it there, still, was the vacant hope. A hollow shell of an emotion, no real depth to it at all. It was there, nonetheless, and somehow it helped him make his way to the stables. He needed to know. He wanted it to be better. A hug and a kiss, a promise and a solution. Simplicity and carelessness once again.

Purely Blaine. Always Blaine.

* * *

><p>"Kurt," he said, seeing the boy's shape in the door, bathed in light and shining as if untouchable.<p>

"What is it, have you…are we alright?" Kurt burst out, and strode towards him, eyes searching.

"No."

Kurt stopped in his tracks, and the expression of fear on his face very nearly broke Blaine's heart right there and then.

"W-What?" the other boy stammered, fully taken aback.

"We can't do this anymore, Kurt. Surely you must know that?" Blaine was terrified. He knew he was hurting Kurt, and his pained eyes in turn sent waves of guilt and shame through Blaine's heart.

"No…no we can, Blaine, you said we can."

Desperation filled Kurt's voice and the tears were already beginning to pool in his eyes.

"I know," Blaine begun, his stomach twisting violently. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I really am. There's no way that I can stay here. I cannot risk it."

Anger suddenly surged through the boy in front of him, as he asked defensively, "Pray tell me why?"

"I can't…I can't endanger you more," Blaine admitted.

"There must be another way, Blaine, please! You can't give up like this, we can…we can run away together!" Kurt suggested frenziedly.

"I'm sorry," Blaine repeated as Kurt began to sob, and it took so much willpower for Blaine not to give it up and tell him it was okay, everything would be okay, it didn't have to end. He knew better, though, and he managed a calm step towards Kurt, presenting the flower that had lain dormant in his room for so long. Kurt stared confusedly at it, mouth slightly open as he breathed heavily.

"Blaine…"

"This is for you, and only for you," Blaine told him, prompting Kurt to uncurl his right hand so that he could place the dry stem of the rose between his fingers. Kurt looked down at it with wet eyes as if it were both entirely beautiful and vastly grotesque.

"I…I don't understand," Kurt weakly said.

"It's a tradition. I am to give this rose to the one I love most in this world. The one I trust most and…and would like most to be with for all of time," his voice had become ever so quiet, but Blaine knew Kurt could hear him. His lover let his eyes stray to meet Blaine's. "Look after it?"

"I…"

"I have to go, Kurt. Please tell your father that I am thankful for everything he's done for me, tell Peter that too when he returns from the village. I know it's not…you must know that I don't want this. I just can't stand the possibility that you will be hurt further if I stay."

"You cannot, please," Kurt pleaded, but there was such hopelessness to his words now that Blaine knew they were empty; he knew that Kurt had realised.

"I love you."

Kurt fell towards him, and Blaine caught him, one hand travelling straight to Kurt's hair as the other boy cried into his shoulder. Blaine finally allowed a lone tear to fall down his cheek, and he cherished the feeling of Kurt against him, tried his best to memorise the solidness and the smell of him and the tremor of Kurt's voice as he spoke of his requited love.

Leaving Kurt felt like nothing had before. It was stark and scary and it occurred to him then that he did not know what on earth he was going to do. He walked and thought, and tried to sew his heart back together when the only one who had the skill to do so was Kurt. He found cheap shelter in Sheffield, and slept. Kurt was on his mind when he fell asleep, and Kurt was on his mind when he woke. A terrible feeling inside him reminded him consistently that Kurt would never be there again, not beside him, not in his arms. But he knew also that somehow Kurt would stay with him.

Something sweetly naïve told him it was not the end.

But through the battle of conflicting notions, a single word stood, slightly battered but very much alive. It confused him, and he could not quite define its meaning, but it shone as bright as Kurt had in that doorway.

Always.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Blaine Anderson had never felt so alone in his life. The deep loneliness that he felt not two hours after leaving Kurt and North Lees Hall behind was infinitely greater than the anxiety and fear he had felt after first leaving Old Aberdeen. He had exited his old life with a kind of passion, and though he was completely unsure of what we was to do and where he was to go, he knew somehow that he would find a way.

But now that passion was gone, stripped away from him when the first of Kurt's tears had fell, seemingly irreplaceable, irretrievable. Lost.

His meaningless state of mind did nothing to find a way out of the situation he had gotten himself into. Blaine Anderson was indeed lost. Very lost.

In his misery he had taken any turn he could find, slowly winding through the countryside, walking without regard. And now he was in the middle of nowhere, and the hedgerows that enclosed every stony path he found obscured the fields behind them.

A pheasant made its way clumsily down a small path that branched off from the road Blaine had been following for at least three miles. On a whim, Blaine followed, momentarily forgetting his sorrow. The pheasant didn't seem to be frightened by him, but Blaine supposed that the bird couldn't be entirely bright. After a short while, the rotund bird shook its tail and took off, flapping its wings heavily as it moved away from Blaine. He stopped and watched it until it was out of sight and then, abruptly, burst into tears.

The sudden crash of emotion upon him was entirely shocking and he could hardly believe his actions as he began to run, further down the path that was no escape from the never-ending green of the country. He breathing was ragged and the tears just wouldn't stop, his bag hitting against his back as he careered further and further, ignoring the ache in his muscles. When he finally came to a gate, the first he had seen in miles, he climbed hastily over it. His bag found itself lying in the mud as he finally sat, head falling into his knees as he sobbed.

It hurt so terribly. He didn't understand how anything could possibly _ever_ feel so truly awful. His heart was longing for Kurt. It was as if, in his need to be sensible to keep Kurt safe, he had forgotten just what kind of door he had opened up for himself. Inside there was no one. He was without a companion, without a friend, without a family.

He hardly noticed the creeping cold that was making itself known as the day progressed. The hunger that was swirling in his stomach seemed remarkably insignificant. Nothing was more prominent than the pain in his heart, and the hopelessness that weighed him down, a burden. He tried his best to clear his mind, in order to look at his predicament in a new way. He knew he would have to find shelter. He had a small amount of money that Kurt had forced upon him before he had left. But it wouldn't last him more than a few nights at any inn. Besides, first he would have to _find_ an inn, which was easier said than done seeing as he had no idea where he could be. He tried to set up a map in his mind in order to at least gain a vague visualisation of his position, but it was to no avail. He simply couldn't remember.

He forced himself to stand, and grabbed his bag from where it laid. Running a hand through his hair, he began to walk again. He figured that finding a river, or even a large stream, would aid him in finding at least a village, and so he travelled down hill, keeping an eye out for any landmark that looked promising.

* * *

><p>Bakewell was a small village. Upon asking a woman who was ushering her children inside a small cottage, Blaine discovered that the place was south of Hathersage. The woman left him with a warm smile that only made Blaine feel the tiniest bit better. He made his way to a pub. It had a rickety sign with the name 'Eyre Arms' painted in bold black letters.<p>

The man at the bar was short and slightly unpleasant looking, but he accepted Blaine's money and ordered rudely for a maid to show him to his room. The whole place smelled of beer and smoke from a dozen men's pipes. The stairs creaked as he followed the lady up the narrow stairway. She extended her arm in a dull manner to the door.

"G'night, sir. Don't let them blasted mites have their way with you," she muttered, before turning and leaving him with his hand on the doorknob.

The room was small and dark, the air heavy with the pungent musk. It struck him then that he had been astoundingly lucky to be able to sleep and eat in such comfort for so long with the Hummel's. His accommodation (Blaine was reluctant to call the place his home) in Old Aberdeen had been much like the room he was in at that moment. But now, he decided, his luck had run out. He would just have to accept that somehow, and find a way to live again.

He went to sleep that night wishing it could be that gloriously simple. If only.

* * *

><p>"One of these lovely green ones 'ere, or one of these, oh you must try one of these!" The woman thrust the fruit excitedly at him, but his thoughts were elsewhere.<p>

"You all right there, love?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Blaine noticed her then, scolding himself for being so rude, and felt obliged to buy a couple of the red apples she had showed him so eagerly.

He tried to make himself think. His sleep had done nothing to clear away some of the rubble in his mind, and he was beginning to lose every last scrap of rational thought. It was as if he had just lost a limb, so entirely unexpected and he just wasn't able to become accustomed to the feeling of it. He couldn't function without Kurt. The sudden plunge into being alone was still a huge shock to him.

He knew that he would have to find somewhere else to work. He simply couldn't get by on what he had, and he believed then that he would happily welcome any chance to take his mind off of what he'd only just had torn away from him. He really could do with the distraction.

It was Monday, the day of the farmer's market in Bakewell. Along the high street there were dozens of stalls, each manned by a different farm team, ardently trying to sell their produce to the people of the village and of the smaller villages in the area. Blaine drifted away from the woman at the fruit stall, towards where a temporary pen had been set up for men selling their cattle. Children who were too young to be in school raced excitedly around the pen, admiring the animals almost as much as the farmers bidding on them. Blaine watched curiously.

"Look at that beauty there, John. See her?" A man with a grey cap upon his head said to another man who had his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He extended his arm out eagerly, pointing at the largest cow.

Blaine got out of their way and circled the crowd of people, occasionally lifting himself up on his tiptoes when the voices of the bidders became particularly loud. He crossed his arms against his chest and watched silently as another animal was tugged into the viewing pen. He wished that he could somehow slip in with the cattle, have someone bid on him and take him away to work and forget.

With a sigh, he walked away, swinging his bag over his shoulder. The emptiness inside him was something he couldn't exercise, not when he was so aimless. He needed to find a purpose before it enveloped him completely, wiping every hope of happiness away forever.

* * *

><p>Mr and Mrs Harboard were a blessing to Blaine. They entered Bakewell with a sign informing all who read it that they were searching for a farmhand, and left with Blaine in their toe. Blaine felt rather like raising his hands to the sky in thanks for the pure convenience of it. They seemed like nice people, though Blaine probably wouldn't have been deterred even if they weren't. Mrs Harboard had dark, wavy hair that she intricately plaited, and her husband was completely bald, with a smile that shone brighter than his head when the light hit it just so. They seemed keen on Blaine, and they offered him a fair wage and a bed. It seemed the perfect escape to Blaine.<p>

They told him that their farm was a mile from any village, on the top of a hill. The farmhouse was beautiful, and they were indeed correct. From the gate you could see for miles and miles. He could see the dark smoke hovering over Sheffield and the small gatherings of tiny villages here and there. He wondered where Hathersage lied.

They gave him a dinner of meat and potatoes, and made sure he was comfortable. They had a son, though the boy didn't make an appearance that day. Mr Harboard said he had been to the city to trade, and that he mightn't be returning until the morning. Mrs Harboard told him a charming story of him, and Blaine nodded and smiled. An hour after dinner, Blaine was in bed. It was cold in the room but he was grateful. If only he could remove the bitterness from his heart. He wanted to forget so badly that Kurt was the only thing he could think about.

But, he supposed, tomorrow he would work his fingers to the bone. He would have a purpose over than being the recipient of all the pain the world seemed able to give him.

Tomorrow he might be okay.


End file.
